


Dance With Your Heart

by Silvandar



Series: Multi Fandom Drabbles and One-shots [7]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Confident seung gil lee, Dancing, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, First Dates, First Love, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Foreplay, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Grinding, Hetero Seung gil, Heterosexual Sex, Heterosexuality, Ice Skating, Intimacy, Kissing, Lee seung gil - Freeform, Light Angst, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Minor Leo de la Iglesia/Ji Guang-Hong, Minor Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Olympics, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Original Character(s), Passion, Passionate Sex, Past Relationship(s), Penis In Vagina Sex, Photographs, Photography, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, References to eating disorders, Romance, Seoul, Seung gil needs love, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Smut, Straight Sex, Tender Sex, Tenderness, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Yuri Plisetsky's Nickname Is Yurio, Yuri on Ice - Freeform, everyone else gets to be in love why not Seung gil, female orgasm, figure skating, male orgasm, pyeongchang 2018, raunchy, references to domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-07 03:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16400234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvandar/pseuds/Silvandar
Summary: "Sometimes, you can only understand yourself through someone else's eyes."Seung-gil once joked on Twitter that he hated women and vegetables. He really does hate vegetables, but he only avoids women because skating is more important. When he meets an official Olympics photographer at his home rink in Seoul, he begins to realise that love and skating can coexist after all.Slow burn romance fic that takes place in the lead up to PyeongChang 2018.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Come and say hi on Tumblr!](http://silvandar.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. 
> 
> This fic is going to ruin me, I can tell already.

There was a photographer at the side of the rink. No attempt to hide the camera, the person was clearly tracking him as he moved, the flash rapid and the lens reflecting the glare of the ice.

Irritation won out over his usual hatred of conversation and... well, people in general, really. Switching direction, he coasted to the boards and stood directly in front of the photographer.

She – it was a woman, he realised - straightened up and peered over the top of the expensive looking equipment, concern on her face. Inwardly groaning, Seung-gil realised she was European, with dark hair and olive skin. Very attractive, actually, but European meant speaking in English, something he loathed with a passion. Mentally switching into another language always left him with a headache, and he knew his poor grip on the grammar made him sound like an illiterate child.

As he opened his mouth to demand to know what she was doing at the rink during a private practice, she spoke first, and his brain stuttered to a halt.

She was speaking in fluent Korean.

“Please forgive me Mr Lee. I didn't mean to disturb your practice. Would you prefer if I stopped using the flash?”

Refocusing, Seung-gil rested his palms on the boards and took another long look at her. She was dressed correctly for the cold of the rink, with her equipment openly spread out on the benches behind her. He noticed a leather portfolio with the logo of PyeongChang 2018 on the corner, and frowned. Was she involved with the Olympic team?

“I'm missing something” he said, shaking his head in confusion. “Why are you here?”

Her laugh was bright and happy, and got the attention of his coach, who raised an eyebrow at the sight of him standing on the ice having a casual conversation with another human. She gestured to get him moving again, and he pushed away from the boards.

“I'll show you once you're done for the day” the photographer called after him, and he nodded before returning to his choreography practice. He lost awareness of her after a while, but when he finished cooling down his eyes searched for her and he felt a spark of relief when he located her sat on her bench, looking through the pictures she'd taken.

 

“I guess your agent didn't tell you about me?”

Seung-gil looked down at the photographer, pulling his heavy training jacket on. The comment surprised him, she hadn't looked up from her camera as he approached her.

“She might have, I don't remember.”

That laugh again, and she stood up and executed a perfectly formal bow as she introduced herself. “My name is Lana del Toro. It's a honour to meet you. I'm currently contracted by the Olympics committee for part of a photographic feature for the Winter Olympics at PyeongChang. My speciality is figure skating and ice dance.”

He returned her bow a little stiffly, still struggling to wrap his mind around a westerner being so familiar with the language and customs. As she spoke, a few points of her accent got through to him and his eyes widened a little.

“You are American?”

“Latina” she replied, smiling and picking up her portfolio. They sat on the bench as she opened it and began flicking through the paperwork inside, revealing images of skaters he recognised. “Miami born, but my parents are Mexican.”

“You speak excellent Korean.”

Another smile. Three in the last minute. How did other people do that so easily?

“Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to speak with you before now. I usually get to know my subjects fairly quickly, but I haven't had much opportunity to meet you.”

“Ah... I don't... don't really talk to people.”

Feeling awkward, Seung-gil scrubbed a hand through his hair and realised in his hurry to shower and find out more about this new person, he'd forgotten to dry it properly. Ice crystals crunched under his fingers and he brushed his hands together unconsciously.

“Ms Park did mention that” she said, watching his hands. “Do you eat at this time of day? If you'd like to discuss the project, we could find somewhere to get dinner? Somewhere warm” she added, with another soft smile.

 

Harvest Namsan was busy even though it was still early evening, but the waiter acknowledged Seung-gil instantly as a regular customer, and they were seated in a quiet corner. Looking out across the skyline of Seoul, Lana's hands twitched almost unconsciously in the direction of her camera bag. Feeling an unusual sense of mischief, Seung-gil twisted his fingers in the strap of the bag and tugged it out of her reach.

“No camera” he replied to the unspoken question in her raised eyebrow. “You can come back any time for photographs.”

“Min-so didn't mention you had a mean streak” she laughed, making a small gesture to indicate she was joking and deliberately folding her arms on the table in front of her, looking over the menu. She was reading the Korean version, Seung-gil noticed.

“You also read Hangul?” he asked, curiously. Lana pulled a face and then nodded her head. “A little. Enough to get by. I'm pretty good with spoken languages, but reading them is more challenging.” As the waiter took their order and brought over drinks and appetisers, she switched her attention back to the stunning rooftop views until Seung-gil picked up the portfolio she'd deliberately left on the table for him to browse at his leisure.

Sipping his fragarent Insam-cha, he flipped through the pages, looking at the skaters she'd photographed. Some of the shots were obviously raw, others had been edited to a greater or lesser extent. Faces he recognised from international competitions, bodies contorted in jumps and spins.

The edits drew his attention, and he found himself flicking between several shots as he tried to understand what he was seeing. As their starters arrived, he gave up and looked up to find her watching him closely. He was terrible at reading people usually, but it was clear she was interested in his views on her work.

“Why do these look so different from each other?” he lacked the technical vocabulary to explain his meaning, and waved a hand at the edited images in frustration. “The... colours, the depths, they are not like normal edits.”

“Maybe if I explain the project?” she asked, and he nodded, starting to work through his food as she talked.

“Part of the merchandise for PyeongChang is a series of art books covering the various disciplines. The idea is to showcase the athletes individual personalities instead of their team image. I've spent the last six years building a career out of photographing skaters and I've worked on ISU projects before, so I was a good fit. Plus, I'm single, no commitments and happy to do a _lot_ of travelling. I'm photographing all the subjects at their home rinks, during their training. In all, I've had seven coaches agree to let me use their skaters, including Park Min-so.”

Seung-gil blinked as she stopped speaking, wondering why his mind had decided to fix on the mid point of that sentence. _She's single... so what?_ He shook his head, eyeing the photographs again.

“So the edits?”

“Are my way of bringing out the personalities of the skaters in the shots. Some are easier than others, of course.”

Of course. He was one of the difficult ones, obviously.

“Who is easy?” he asked, and immediately took a bite of rice to cover his confusion. Why did he care?”

“Well, Leo is probably the easiest” she laughed, fishing out a picture of the American Skater. Each of the edits was stylistically the same, with trails of light tracing the path of the movements, but each had its own colours and themes. The edit for Leo de la Iglesia was bright, featuring yellows and warm tones. The pose was a triple toeloop, and seemed to have been taken at almost ice-level, with the angle upwards.

Seung-gil had met Leo maybe a dozen times, and had never even registered him beyond a reoccurring face somewhere behind a smartphone. There was no sensible explanation for the way his stomach hurt, listening to her speaking about how much fun it had been to work with him. He put it down as too much tea before eating.

“It helps that I've known him for so long. Plus, he taught me how to skate so I could get this shot.”

“You... you were on the ice for this?”

“With a medium length lens, obviously. I wasn't going to risk getting in his way!”

The amount of trust that showed, on both of their behalfs... to let someone else jump while being close enough to get that angle... and to let someone get that close when you did jump... even thinking about it made Seung-gil shudder slightly.

“How do you know him?” The words were out before he'd actually thought it through, and his face telegraphed surprise at his own question.

“We grew up together” she smiled, tucking the photograph back in and waving away his discomfort. “The Mexican-American community can be pretty close, and our families lived on the same block in Miami. We went to the same school, and when he started getting into skating I just sort of tagged along. I was all about photographing dogs at the time, but when I saw the skaters flying over the ice, I was hooked. We were about eight or nine? He's very much like a brother, or a cousin.”

That was too much information in one go, and Seung-gil covered his eyes with his hand helplessly. It occurred to him that he was suddenly exhausted; this was the longest conversation he'd had with anyone for over a month.

He was expecting her to be angry that he'd cut her off, but when he risked looking at her again, she was investigating her soup enthusiastically. Not ignoring him, but not focused on him either. When he prepared to apologise for the silence, she gave him an encouraging smile and then turned her attention to the view while he finished his food, resting her chin on her hand.

It occurred to him as he ate that she seemed to realise he'd become overwhelmed, and had consciously backed off to give him time to recover. The understanding and compassion that implied was astonishing from... well, anyone, really, let alone someone who'd only just met him. Making an attempt to acknowledge that was probably the least he could do.

He turned his attention back to the portfolio as the waiter cleared their plates, finding the edits more enjoyable to look at now he understood the thought process behind them. As he reached a shot of the current world champion, he paused and raised an eyebrow.

“I don't know Yuri Plisetsky personally, but his reputation would suggest red and black as better colours for him? Why did you chose purple and green?”

He blinked in surprise as she laid an affectionate hand on the photograph and said “ah, he's a sweet boy. I wanted to show the reality of him, not his public persona.” Seeing Seung-gil's expression of disbelief, she added “he's more than just fire and fury. He's exceptionally perceptive, and very sensitive to the emotions of others.” She laughed, and shook her head. “I'm privileged to be one of the few people outside of his immediate circle that knows that about him, I should probably stop revealing his secrets.”

“I...” he paused, unsure of what he wanted to say. He wanted to apologise in advance for being the most difficult skater she worked with, but he was loathe to speak so negatively of himself. He knew who he was and was happy with it, for the most part, and he rarely worried how he affected others. “I'm afraid I may be difficult for you” he finished, weakly.

To his absolute astonishment, she nodded agreement. “I'm certain of it” she laughed, but then her expression shifted to a wistful sadness. “It's been a worry for a while. I always knew I was going to cover you last because of the visa issues with South Korea, but as I watched the season progress I was half convinced your agent would cancel the contract.”

“What? Why... what do you mean? Why wouldn't... oh. _Oh_. You thought I'd pull out of PeyongChang?”

“I worried that you might.”

“You're the first person outside of my team to actually admit that to me” Seung-gil hunched slightly in his seat, poking a few leftover strands of rice around the table to distract himself. “Min-so and I spoke about it after... after Worlds... but the scandal would have been horrendous.” He frowned, replaying her words for a moment. “You watched my skates?”

“Of course. I was rinkside for Four Continents, doing candids and program shots for the ISU instagram feed. I didn't get a chance to bid on Worlds because of the Olympic contract, so I just watched from the stands.”

“Mmm. W-what did you think of them? My programs” he clarified, and her nose scrunched a little as she considered her response. He realised he was staring at her and dropped his eyes back to the portfolio.

Another image caught his eye, and he drew it out with fingers that shook slightly. The edit was the Japanese skater, Yuuri Katsuki. The shot was the entrance to a flying camel spin, and the edit was cool tones, blues and silvers flowing around him. Somehow, there was a sense of intense pressure from the image, as if the skater were covered by a great weight. Yet his expression was almost angelic as he held the spin position and trusted himself to land properly.

“You skate like you've lost faith in yourself” her voice was soft, and he almost didn't catch her words. When he looked up, he found her watching his reaction carefully. “When you jump, it's like you're not sure where you're going to end up. Your step sequences suffer because you're so focused on your score. It's...” she paused, and bit her lip slightly. “I don't know what happened to make you doubt yourself, but it's hurting your skate. But you already know that” she added, leaning back and looking out at the view again, seeming to draw away from the conversation.

He wondered why, until he registered the tension in his face and realised he'd sunk into one of his trademark 'angry eyebrows' expressions, as his mother used to call them. Passing a hand across his face to try and clear away the tension, he gestured to the waiter for the bill.

“Shall we leave?” he asked, standing up and walking to the counter, leaving her to gather her things. He knew he was being rude, but he needed air, and time to get his expression back under control.

 

They walked in silence for almost ten minutes, until they reached a small park which was blessedly free of people. Seung-gil folded onto a bench, resting his chin on his hands. After a moment, Lana sat next to him and leaned back, giving him the same space and silence she'd provided since the restaurant.

“You're almost right” he said, after a while. “Although it's not... I haven't lost faith in myself, not really. I just... urgh. Words are hard” he protested, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. He heard her soft laugh, and instantly knew she was laughing _with_ him instead of at him.

“Everyone is so focused on the Olympics” he tried again, attempting to put into words something he'd only recently even been able to admit to himself. “I... I want to go, of course. I want to skate for... for Korea. I just... I don't... I don't feel the same about it. I'm so wrapped up in scores and techniques and I just...” sighing in frustration, he leaned back on the bench. “I don't _enjoy_ it any more” he murmured, and closed his eyes. Even saying those words felt like a betrayal; of his training, of his coach, of his country, of himself.

“I don't think that's true, Seung-gil. Not all the time.” When she spoke, it was so quiet that he found himself leaning towards her to hear, and he opened his eyes as his shoulder brushed hers, turning to face her. He wanted to demand how she thought she knew better than him, but his retort died on his lips as he found her looking down at her camera. The shots in the digital reader were tiny, but he could recognise the colours of his training gear.

“Come back to my apartment” she said, gesturing with her camera. “I want to show you some of these on a proper sized screen.” She noticed the wariness in his expression and smiled gently. “I promise not to kidnap you” she added with warm laugh.

“Lead the way” he shrugged, offering her a hand up. She took it, squeezing his fingers gently in thanks. As they left the park, he found himself fixating on the warmth she'd shared with his skin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter was inspired by a [power ballads playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/spotify/playlist/37i9dQZF1DX7Z6mujTAuDc?si=ly8BXtm_T-mjvcnz-I-N7A), because that's just Seung-gil to me now.


	2. Chapter 2

The apartment was a short term rental, and it was sparse. Basic furniture and tech, with a small kitchen / dining room and a separate bedroom. The bathroom was a decent sized feature, although it only included a shower, no room for a tub. Other than a few piles of camera equipment and clean laundry, there was hardly any evidence that someone lived and worked from the place, until you looked in the small lounge.

Three of the four walls were _covered_ with images of skaters, most of them shot during a jump, a spin, or some other element. The images were printed on glossy paper, A4 size or larger. Standing in front of the wall of international talent, Seung-gil found himself drawn into identifying movements and mentally projecting the onward path of the skaters. The pictures were in perfect focus, and each skater seemed to be moments away from leaping off the page and into the room.

Alongside the others, his own face was there, frozen in expressionless calculation. It was one of his biggest flaws as a skater, he knew; his inability to empathise with the music, to give the judges what they wanted. His Interpretation score was usually one of the lowest at the international level, and no matter how much he practised, once the pressure of competition kicked in he disappeared into his own head.

A hot cup of tea was pressed into his hand, and he allowed the distraction to pull him away from the wall. Gesturing him onto the couch, Lana sat next to him and balanced her laptop on her thigh, linking her camera with it via a slim cable. Waiting for the folder to load up, she inclined her head to the wall.

“What do you think?”

“The pictures? They're very emotive.” Comprehension dawned and he blinked. “You took them?”

“Those are the raw shots I'm thinking of using for the project. The edits I showed you in the portfolio are the primaries for each skater, but there's a lot more to go into the book.” She put her finger to her lips in a _hush_ gesture and smiled. “You've glimpsed behind the curtain of the project, don't you feel special?”

“You're using those shots of me?” He didn't like that. They seemed so cold, compared to the other skaters.

“No” she replied, “I got some better ones today. Look.”

As he watched, she pulled up half a dozen images from the days shooting. He pointed at an out of focus close up of his chest, saying “my ambush of you.”

“A terrible attempt at an ambush. I saw you coming.” Her tone was mischievous, and she nudged him gently. “Maybe I ambushed you, did you think of that? After all, you bought dinner.”

A good point, and the speed of her comeback made the corner of his mouth try to tug up into a tiny smile. He fought for control over his face and won, but he was mildly alarmed at the effort it took.

The next shot was later in the day, as evidenced by the dark sweat marks on his training shirt. He'd been running through his step sequence and drilling his spins, and his hair was a mess from the momentum. The shot was around the middle point of a spread eagle, and his arms were half raised as he prepared to shift his weight out of the position.

“Your face” she said, but he was already staring at himself in astonishment. Only stopping himself from touching the screen through an effort of will, he gaped at the tiny version of himself.

The picture of him was smiling.

Not an overt smile, nothing so obvious as a grin, or anything to do with his lips at all, really. But the angle of his eyebrows and the tension in his jaw might as well have shouted, the way it stood out to him.

“This one” she spoke quietly, trying not to jar him out of his introspection. A second image displayed on the screen, this time part way through a camel spin. He was immediately reminded of the edit of Katsuki he'd seen earlier; the same expression of contentment was on his face. His eyes were closed and he was braced against the force of the spin, but every line of his body spoke of skill and confidence.

“How is this me?” he breathed, as she pulled up the last photograph.

“I think this one will be going into the shortlist” she said, displaying the image and then placing the laptop on his knee as she rose from the couch. As he stared at the picture, she docked her phone and began searching for some music.

The last picture had been at the very end of the day, when he'd been tired and hungry and generally ready to hit the showers. He'd been going through his normal cool down and the shot was taken from a high angle, Lana had probably been standing on one of the benches at the time.

His entire body was in the shot, and he had been half way through a turn. Not a technically complicated moment, but his posture and the movement captured gave it a dynamic he hadn't seen in the others. The speed of the turn rippled his training shirt and pushed his hair out of his eyes, framing his face in long black strands.

“He looks... peaceful.”

Lana looked up from the phone, her lips curling in a smile at his use of the third person. “Very”, she replied, and his reply faded on his lips as soft music filled the room. He recognised it as a latin pop track, the throaty female singer and the Spanish language sounding exotic to his ears.

“So maybe you do still enjoy it, after all?” she asked, putting the laptop to one side and offered both of her hands to him. Confused, he took them and found himself pulled to his feet.

“What do you think about when you skate?”

“Numbers. Scores. Elements. The progress of the program.” Still holding his hands in a very gentle grip, she tugged him into the middle of the room. She had kicked off her shoes when they arrived, which had made him wince as he carefully put his beside the door. Barefoot, they were nearly the same height.

“You don't think about the music? Or the feeling of the dance?”

 _Feeling of the dance?_ Dancing was a major aspect of figure skating of course, and Seung-gil dedicated part of his weekly training routine to dance conditioning and technique. He could dance most ballroom styles, and was passing good at ballet. He didn't think he'd ever _felt_ a dance a day in his life.

It dawned on him that they were dancing now, although it had transitioned so subtly that he'd missed the point where they'd gone from standing to moving. The music was faster, although it seemed to be the same singer. Lana was still holding onto his hands, although he knew he could simply step out of the soft grip if he wanted to. She smiled as he relaxed his shoulders, accepting this new strangeness in the same way he'd accepted her presence at rinkside. Truthfully, he had never felt less like fighting in his life.

Pressing their palms together and twisting their wrists up, she brought their hands to chest height, letting her fingers entwine with his. The music was still slow and sultry, but the beat was wriggling its way under his skin, taking more control over his movements.

“Where did you learn to dance?” he asked, needing a distraction from the warmth spreading out from their laced fingers. She laughed and turned, releasing his left hand and using the right as a pivot. He spun her obediently, then blinked when she stopped at the half way point and pressed her back against him, lowering his arm until it was around her waist.

“I'm latina” she said, still laughing softly. “I was dancing before I could walk.”

Their dance now seemed to be led entirely by the movement of her hips, the grip on her waist moulding him to her body. His free hand found a resting point on her hip and she linked her fingers through his again as her arm slipped behind his neck.

At some point in the last minute, he'd stopped breathing.

“Dance is about the feeling” she murmured, and he realised he'd tucked his head into her neck, her lips level with his ear. He'd also closed his eyes at some point, when had that happened?

“Dance without feeling isn't dance, it's just moving to music.”

The beat shifted, faster and demanding, drawing them into more deliberate movements. He sensed the change in position coming and managed to bite back an entirely undignified whine when she uncoiled herself from him, his grip shifting on her waist. For an agonising moment he thought she would pull away entirely, but then she pressed her thigh against his hip, rocking their bodies together and running her fingers down his spine.

Sweeping around him in rapid, graceful steps, one hand sliding around his waist, the other mirroring the movement over the back of his neck, every motion was a direct challenge. His instincts kicked in before he managed to think all the way through his response and he pulled her tightly to him, wrapping both arms around her waist.

The kiss was inevitable, and yet even days later he couldn't remember who had pressed in first. He strongly suspected it had been him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are dancing to [Shakira](https://open.spotify.com/album/5hcKSTqKOLuzJgYIQileAe?si=8zv-cmJbQS-nTXZi_emPHA)


	3. Chapter 3

Dancing abandoned in favour of kissing, they ended up back on the couch, Lana sat astride him, knees either side of his hips. Her hair was a dark curtain around him, and no power on earth could prevent him from sinking his hands into it. One hand lightly stroked his throat, while she used the other for balance against the back of the couch.

Seung-gil pressed his face against her shoulder as they paused for breath, wrapping his arms around her waist and drinking in the scent of her. She smelled of coconut and citrus, a light fragrance that put him in mind of heat and sun bleached sand. He murmured something unintelligible as she stroked his hair, not feeling mentally stable enough to look at her. Clearing his throat, he tried again to speak coherently.

“Perhaps we ambushed each other.”

“Mmm. Perhaps we did” she agreed, slipping a finger under his jaw and gently tilting his face up for another kiss, shivering as his hands wandered up her spine and sank into her hair again.

“I didn't plan this.”

Reluctantly he pulled back as she spoke into the kiss, finding her eyes on his. She looked suddenly worried, as if it she thought that he might resent their present situation. That honestly hadn't occurred to him, although he suspected it might have done in a few hours time, once his hormones had calmed down.

“If you did, I wouldn't mind.”

“I didn't though. And I... I don't want you to think this is how I work... or anything like that...”

She was still looking worried, so he ran his fingers down her throat to her shoulder, stroking the smooth, olive skin with his thumb and winning a soft purr from her. Drawing her down into a soft kiss, he forced himself to use words to express himself instead of just body language.

“ You can't get photographs that good by kissing. It requires actual talent. Besides, half the boys on that wall would sooner kiss their skates than a woman.”

Laughing, she rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed in relief. Something inside him did another little victory dance, delighted that he'd managed to make her laugh with a joke, rather than just by being hopeless at people. Letting her hands drift over his shoulders and chest drew a soft groan which he tried to cover by seeking her lips again.

  
“I like dancing with you” she murmured sometime later, and he pressed his nose against her jaw, not even bothering to fight his tiny smile this time. Her skin felt like silk and he obeyed an urge to trace soft kisses down onto her throat, enjoying the way her breath hitched and her fingers tightened briefly in his hair. Finding a place just above her clavicle that made her twitch against his chest, he let his teeth graze lightly over the spot. He wasn't surprised when she pulled his lips away, there was heat in her eyes as she looked down at him.

“None of that” she said, tapping his forehead gently with a finger. “Otherwise things will get very unprofessional, very quickly.”

Considering his available responses, given how his language centres were more or less fused by an overdose of physical sensations, he settled for pressing his face against her arm and attempting to look contrite. Judging by her soft laugh, he failed miserably. Attempting to prove that he knew how to behave, he pulled her down into his chest and out of range of his lips, almost purring as she snuggled against him.

They sat for a while, listening to the music that they'd largely ignored for the last few hours, feeling the rhythm of their slow breathing. Seung-gil was surprised and gratified at how easily Lana fit against his body as they curled up on the couch together. She'd tucked her legs around his calves and her shoulder was pressed against his chest as he stroked her hair, her hands wrapped in his shirt. Neither of them seemed inclined to break the intimate contact.

“Don't you have early training tomorrow?”

“Mmm.”

“And a dog to walk before bed?”

“Mmmmm.”

“So you're not planning on leaving any time soon then?”

“No. Maybe. I'll go in a minute” he decided, twisting her long dark hair around his fingers again, savouring the sensation of her weight pressing against him. Her laugh made his breath stutter a little.

The mention of training made his brain engage a little more, and he looked down at her curiously. “What will it be like tomorrow?” he asked, not convinced he really wanted an answer. She pressed herself a little tighter to him, then relaxed and sat up, looking at him calmly.

“That's up to you” she replied, kissing the tip of his nose. The sweetness of the gesture made him flush, and he ducked his head a little to hide it.

“Why is it up to me?”

“Because you're the internationally competing athlete.”

That... didn't seem like a fair point at all. He made a soft sound of confusion, and she sighed. “I'd like to do this again... many, many times. I'd really like it.”

“So would I.”

“I'm glad” she smiled, “but... only you can decide if it's a distraction, or a pressure you don't need.”

Seung-gil thought about that, attempting to force logic circuits back from their brief vacation while the pleasure centres of his brain had been in charge.

“ I don't know” he said, opting for blunt honesty. “I've never had this experience before.” Noticing her disbelieving stare, he reviewed his last sentence and clarified. “I've never met anyone two months before my first Olympic games. Or during the season, for that matter. Normally I'm...” stuck inside my own head, hate all distractions, he didn't add, but her expression said she understood anyway.

He pressed his nose against her hair and inhaled one last time, before reluctantly starting the process of disentangling their limbs. “I don't know the answer, but I know I want to see your photographs from tomorrow. Will you show me? Have dinner with me tomorrow night, at my place. You can meet Yu-Na.”

Somehow, he managed to survive her answering smile.

  
The rest of his evening was a jumbled mess of dog walking, showering and completing his training logs, all about two hours behind schedule. A sour little thought kept bubbling up: that this was exactly what Lana meant by 'distractions', this was the reason he habitually avoided contact with women, especially attractive women.

He'd made a throwaway comment once on his twitter account that he hated women and vegetables, and it had gone viral in an alarmingly short amount of time; the legend of Seung-gil, obsessive skater and women hater, had been born. In hindsight, his phrasing had been terrible and he hadn't anticipated the issues in translating from the Korean. It had been infinitely easier to just go along with it than attempt damage control, and besides which, the whole thing had irritated him with its pettiness. So he'd said nothing, and met any questions about his interest in women, or lack thereof, with his habitual “press” scowl.

While he was brushing his teeth and trying to ignore the slightly smug expression his reflection was still wearing, it occurred to him that Lana had probably read that tweet at some point.

_What to make of that, Lee Seung-gil?_

_Nothing. Make nothing of it, stop being a hormonal, crazy person and go to bed._

He nodded at his traitor reflection and put his toothbrush away, collapsing into bed with a groan. The tacking of claws on tile gave him a moments warning and then Yu-Na landed on his legs, huffing and circling to make herself comfortable. He put up with her pushing him around for about thirty seconds before turning over so she could curl up behind his knees. She always started the night there and ended it with her head on the pillow next to him, back pressed against his.

_Yu-Na won't thank me for introducing someone into our lives if that person steals her favourite sleeping spot._

That thought quite naturally re-opened the floodgates, and in no time at all he was reliving every memory he'd retained of the evening.

Sleep was a long time in coming, but when he awoke he felt refreshed, as if he'd slept for twelve hours straight. His sleep app was green, reporting deep, regular activity cycles and an estimated six hours of REM sleep despite the late night. Regardless of the disruption to his schedule, he felt _good._

Seung-gil was about as physically well equipped for warm weather as his husky, and by the time he got back home from their run the next morning they were both unpleasantly fragrant. Dashing off an email to his dog sitter to give her a bath when she arrived at nine, he threw himself through the shower and then ate breakfast on the go as he made his way to the rink. As he headed to the tube station, he realised that for the first time in months, he was keen to get onto the ice.

 


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Lana arrived at the rink, he was oblivious to everything around him. Running his short program jumps took most of the morning, and he didn't even realise she was there until he broke for lunch. He spotted her talking quietly with Min-so, showing her something on the camera.

Paranoia overtook him and he changed direction, aiming for the exit nearest them so he could eavesdrop. Unfortunately. as he got within range, both women looked up at him and he felt a blush creeping over his face, the resulting duck of his head and rapid acceleration out of the door making his coach stare after him in astonishment. A quick backward glance confirmed Lana was covering her mouth with her hand as she tried not to laugh, and Min-so's eyebrows were nearly at her hairline. Muttering to himself about his own stupidity, he made a beeline for his usual cafe.

 **2.15pm** _We weren't talking about you, don't worry. I was showing her some shots of Ying Nai-se that I took yesterday._

The decision to give Lana his number had seemed very natural last night, after several hours of dancing and kissing. Staring at the text now, he realised he hadn't been expecting her to use it at all. Was he that insecure?

 **2.17pm** _I'm not worried._

 **2.17pm** _What did she say after I left?_

Yes, because that's what 'not worried' looks like. Well done. He glared at his phone in disgust, wondering if it was possible to recall texts. Probably not.

 **2.18pm** _She thinks you might have a cold or something. Expect an ambush from her when you get back._

 **2.20pm** _As long as it's not like the last one, I'll survive._

 **2.20pm** _I can't believe I just said that._

 **2.21pm** _That's adorable_ *laugh emoji*

 **2.23pm** _Are we still meeting tonight?_

He sent her his address and a time as a response, then turned his phone off with a groan. Unable to deal with any more human interaction for a few hours, he dodged Min-so with practised ease and lost himself in spins and transitions for the rest of the day. By the time he felt able to cope with making eye contact with people again, Lana was gone.

  
Cleaning the house and trying to get some of the dog fur off the couch took up most of the early evening, leaving him only just enough time to shower and throw on the least hideous set of training clothes he owned before the doorbell rang. For the first time in his life, he wondered why he didn't own normal clothes.

Battling Yu-Na out of the hall took both hands and a lot of effort, so typically he just wrenched the door open and focused on dragging the excitable husky out of the way. He could hear Lana laughing as she entered the flat, but didn't get a chance to look at her until she knelt down in front of the dog to say hello. When he did glance up, his jaw dropped and he lost his grip on Yu-Na's collar; of course, the resulting surge forward put Lana on the floor under nearly 200lbs of dog.

“Oh my god... are you OK? Yu-Na! Get off her!”

Lana's reply was lost in delighted squeals as the husky attempted to lick every part of her face and arms at once, and then she was sitting up with her arms around his flatmates' neck, burying her face in her fur.

“It's fine, that was my fault anyway. She's _gorgeous_ ” she laughed, as Yu-Na flopped on top of her and gave Seung-gil a contented look. Shaking his head, he sat on the arm of the couch and watched the pile of human and dog as they played happily on the floor.

“She's never like this with strangers” he said weakly, feeling entirely unprepared to cope with the outfit Lana was wearing. It was obvious she'd tried to dress casually, probably to avoid freaking him out, in a light blue, sleeveless denim cardigan and ankle length, pink flower print dress. Despite that, his eyes moved hungrily over the v neck of the dress and the smooth curves of her arms as she stroked Yu-Na's back. The husky seemed to be just as smitten, looking deep into her eyes and rubbing her nose against her face whenever she got the chance.

 _“_ I love dogs!”

“You used to photograph them, you said.”

She stared up at him, surprise written on her face. “You remember that?”

Clicking his tongue, he offered her his hand so she could get out from under the husky. “I remember things sometimes” he said, then added “important things. Like talking about dogs.” _And things you say_ he managed to avoid adding, feeling his expression trying to smile as she beamed at him.

They were still holding hands where he'd helped her up, and so it seemed perfectly reasonable to pull her closer to him, looping both arms around her waist. The warmth of her hands on his chest made his smile even more difficult to control, and he avoided direct eye contact to be safe.

“Hello” he said, feeling foolish.

“Hi” she replied, brushing their lips together gently.

Before he had a chance to regain his wits after that escalation, Yu-Na interrupted by giving out a yowl and placing both front paws on their shoulders, clearly confused by all of this human contact. He gave her a sympathetic look, and Lana extricated an arm from his embrace to ruffle her fur.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, and he wasn't sure if the question was directed at him or the dog. A loud yowl answered for him and he laughed, letting go of Lana and pushing the husky back onto the floor.

“I don't cook” he said, with an almost-apologetic shrug, and pulled open a drawer full of various takeaway menus. “Luckily, healthy takeaway is the rage in Seoul.”

They decided on a BBQ place that Seung-gil used often enough to get free extras, and curled up on the couch to order. Yu-Na made a spirited attempt to join them, and was so annoyed with her housemate's refusal to allow her on the furniture that she went into the kitchen to sulk in her bed. In the subsequent dog-free atmosphere, he felt awkwardness trying to reassert itself as Lana peered curiously around his front room.

His thoughts darkened as silence stretched out, and he began formulating some stock conversations. Cursing himself for being unable to pass as a human for even a few minutes, his expression folded in on itself and he stared at the floor, his hands tucked into his lap and his shoulders hunched.

Lana watched him retreat into his own head from the corner of her eye, unperturbed. His behaviour in the kitchen had been more surprising than this retreat, she hadn't expected him to initiate physical contact at all. Yu-Na's assault of love upon her had obviously been a catalyst, and he'd simply followed his instincts after that. Now, without clear direction or prompting from her, he was lost.

 


	5. Chapter 5

When he'd left the previous evening, Lana had sat quietly for a long time trying to process. The reality didn't want to compute; she'd spent the last few hours making out with possibly the most antisocial individual in international figure skating. Not just making out, either. _Good_ making out.

On impulse, she'd facetimed Leo in an attempt to ground herself. When he'd answered he looked sleepy, and grumbled about time differences until he saw the look on her face.

“Oh god. What happened.”

“Ah... Met someone unexpected. Very confused and a bit freaked out. Also I think I have a massive crush.”

“Hah” he sat up and dragged his hair out of his face, climbing out of bed. He was wearing obnoxious American Flag pyjama bottoms and had a distinctly mussed look. She raised an eyebrow, and he grinned, moving the camera to reveal a small lump under the duvet next to him as he sneaked out of the bedroom.

“Shit, sorry. I forgot he was visiting” she dropped the phone onto the sofa and curled up next to it, balancing it on the pillow so she was still visible. Leo had taken refuge in his kitchen and was making a coffee. “What time is it there?”

“Time you learned to calculate time differences” he said, without malice. “So who's the lucky guy?”

“Mmm. Not the point” she knew even with heavy digging, it was unlikely _anyone_ would guess correctly.

“What is the point then? You like him, he obviously likes you... that's quite a visible hickey by the way... so what's the big deal?”

She slapped a hand to her throat, blushing furiously. That would need concealer for the rink tomorrow. “He's... different. Than anyone, really. I don't know what to do.”

The camera tilted as Leo curled up on his own couch, and then he was giving her a curious look as he sipped his coffee. “That's weird enough to get my attention, even at 4am. You _always_ know what to do. Specifically, you ignore, avoid, or date. Since when did you have grey areas?”

_Since I started crushing on a human glacier... who seemed to be more than happy to melt for me. Fuck. Can't say that._

_“_ Now do you see my problem?”

“Hmmm. Well, is it a crush? Or do you like, _like_ him?”

“Like like. Which is also weird, because he is definitely _not_ my usual type.” _Well, apart from being a skater, of course. Can't say that, either._

“Lani, you don't have a 'usual' type. At least, not recently.” His voice was gentle, and she knew he was trying to avoid triggering painful memories. Carefully auditing her thoughts, comprehension dawned and she was suddenly, overwhelmingly glad she'd called him.

“I know why I'm confused” she said, smiling slightly. “He's... actually really vulnerable... but he hides it well, just like me. It's like I'm looking in a mirror.... I didn't figure it out properly until right now.”

“So you're going to see him again?”

“If he wants to.” She held her hand up at his outraged expression, “it has to be his choice. I can't explain why, but it has to be.”

Leo opened his mouth to protest, and then paused as a voice came from outside of the room. He replied in Chinese, and she felt her expression soften into a soppy mush. “Go back to bed. I'm OK now.”

“OK. Cuídate bien, mi amiga.”

 

“Why don't you display your medals or trophies?”

Seung-gil blinked, surprised at the question. It felt like hours since they'd last spoken, but a glance at his watch told him it had been only a few minutes.

“I... I don't like to look backwards. My father has most of them at his house.”

“When you podium at the Olympics, will you keep that one?” This time, when she looked at him, he felt able to keep eye contact. The conversation was about skating; he could handle that, even if it was a difficult question.

“When I podium... you mean if.”

“The competition isn't out of your league” she said, tucking her feet underneath her on the couch and twisting to face him. “You're as good as any of them.”

As he automatically started to reply that she was biased, he paused and stared blankly ahead for a moment. That... wasn't true though. She wasn't part of his team, after all, and she'd spent more time with the other skaters than with him. Even after the intimacy of last night, there was no reason for him to assume she would lie to him or give him biased opinions. He remembered her words from the restaurant, and shook his head ruefully. She seemed more than comfortable with brutal honesty, even when she delivered it gently.

Curious, he turned towards her, unconsciously mirroring her posture. “You calculated my score?”

“Well, you did that already on your facebook page, so I didn't need to. You know your base value for your short program is below Plisetsky by half a point, and your free skate is equal to both him and Katsuki. You're higher than Giacometti and Chulanont by five points, and the others are lower than that.”

He did know. “My technical score isn't the problem. Even assuming I don't screw up any elements and get a mid range GOE on my jumps, I'll still lose points on the PCS. I always do.”

It was already obvious too him that she understood the intricacies of scoring as well as the effect of attitude on performance, but any last doubts were squashed when she smiled and nodded.

“Balancing your known losses in PCS against the likelihood of anyone apart from Plisetsky and Katsuki managing a flawless performance _and_ obtaining a middle to top range GOE for every element, it's highly likely you'll take bronze. You can calculate the odds of that in your own time. If Plisetsky or Katsuki have a bad skate, or if you nail top GOE's for all your elements, you'll be looking at silver or gold.”

“I don't want to win just because they screw up!”

The minute it was out of his mouth, he realised she'd trapped him. Laughing, she ran his fingers over the back of his hand, closing the physical distance between them without crowding him. Lowering his eyes as he twined his fingers with hers, he shook his head.

“Suddenly he talks about winning! A moment ago, he wasn't even on the podium. How things change” she stroked his fingers gently, and he battled back a smile.

“Well played” he murmured, and she laughed again. Her laughter was infectious, a light and happy sound that brought back memories of the previous evening. The wave of heat that followed those thoughts coloured his cheeks, and his fingers shook slightly as he traced the back of her hand.

Sensing the shift in his demeanour, Lana decided it was safe to risk pushing him a bit. Leaning forward, she brushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes, her expression soft. He met her gaze properly, then closed the distance between them, slipping a hand into her hair as their lips met. The relief that washed over her as he kissed her made her sigh into the kiss and his embrace tightened, tugging her into his lap gently.

 

They were interrupted by the food delivery a short while later, but the atmosphere between them remained domestic and fluffy as they ate in the kitchen, giving Yu-Na pieces of doggy treats to keep her away from their food. Seung-gil brought up the photographs she'd taken that day, and she let him browse through the best shots she'd brought on her phone. As a result, he was looking at her phone when it buzzed under his fingers with an incoming call from Leo.

Pushing the device back to her, he shrugged as she apologised and answered it in English, setting it on speaker out of habit. She noticed his reaction as he winced a little from automatically trying to translate the language and failing, and reached across to take his hand, swapping language mid sentence to Spanish. There was a confused pause on the other end, then Leo did the same and they continued their conversation.

The relief on Seung-gil's face must have been painfully obvious as he let the unknown words wash over him, enjoying the roll and flow of their speech without instinctively trying to translate. Pushing her empty plate out of reach of Yu-Na, she beckoned him back to the front room and he followed her, sitting on the couch when she gestured. To his surprise and secret pleasure, she curled up into his lap immediately, resting her phone on her knee.

A second voice came on the line speaking in a different language entirely, and Seung-gil raised an eyebrow, recognising the tones as the Chinese skater Guang Hong Ji. Despite himself, he couldn't help but make a curious noise.

“They're dating” she replied in Korean, and his expression must have telegraphed something because she laughed out loud. “What's that face?”

“Isn't Guang Hong only about sixteen?”

“He's 20 years old. Why do you always think everyone is younger than you?”

“They act younger.”

She brushed her lips to his forehead affectionately, and then replied in Chinese to an interrogative from Guang Hong, who had picked up on the syllables of his name despite not knowing the language.

“Why are you talking on speaker phone anyway?”

“I owe Leo a favour, so I can't hang up on him.”

“Why _speaker phone?”_

 _“_ I didn't want you to feel left out. I can switch back if you like?”

That was just baffling, and he tucked his head against her neck as he murmured “humans are so weird.” Her laugh triggered that damned smile again, and he buried his face in her hair to hide it.

The unexpected twitch from her as he pressed his nose against her throat made him realise he could cause mischief for her in their current position. Pushing the mane of her hair aside, he switched to silent kisses, feathering them down her throat and onto her shoulder. The flow of her speech started to sound broken, but she didn't move to stop him.

Smirking against her skin, he found the pulse point below her jaw with a firmer kiss. She wriggled a little, her fingers tightening on his arm, and babbled something hurriedly in Spanish before switching her phone off. Tossing it onto the table she twisted in his lap and took his face in her hands, leaning down to trap his lips with her own. Within moments, they were breathless and his hands were buried in her hair, letting her push him onto his back on the couch.

 

Leo hung up with a chuckle, shrugging. “That must be the mystery guy. Sounds like he was misbehaving in the background.”

“What??”

“From last night. The one she rang to talk about at like 4am. He was definitely distracting her at the end there.”

Guang Hong stared at his boyfriend like he'd just gone mad. “Leo, what the fuck are you talking about? Didn't you recognise the voice... that was _Lee Seung-gil._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busted! Speakerphone is dangerous, y'all!


	6. Chapter 6

Seung-gil managed about five minutes before things began to get very uncomfortable and he pushed Lana onto her side against the back of the couch, trying to hide his physical reaction to the way she was kissing him. His teasing seemed to have brought out a passionate side of her, and he was burning up from her heat.

The switch in positions didn't help him, as she slipped a knee between his thighs and murmured into the kiss. He groaned as his discomfort escalated rapidly, trying to reduce the pressure on himself by moving his hips away. Her response was to catch hold of his belt and pull him tightly against her, and he realised that she knew exactly why he was squirming, and was thoroughly enjoying his situation.

“You're cruel” he murmured, letting his lips brush her earlobe as she laced her fingers into his hair.

“After what you just did while I was on the phone, I'm the cruel one?”

“I didn't say I wasn't cruel too.”

Bright laughter turned into another happy sigh as his kisses trailed lower and he tasted her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. Shivering, she trailed her hand down his spine in response, warm fingers finding a strip of skin as his t shirt rode up. Curious to see his reaction, she ran her nails across his hip, delighted when he hissed and captured her lips again.

“Once more, we are bordering on unprofessional” he murmured into her ear as they broke for breath and she nodded, removing her hands from under his top and pulling back from him reluctantly. Huge brown eyes studied the changes in his expression as she let her fingers brush through his hair, enjoying the flush on his high cheekbones and the way his pupils were blown wide with desire.

“I don't want to be professional around you” she admitted.

He kissed her again, and she pulled him tightly to her for a moment. “Will you dance with me again?” he murmured.

“I'd love to.”

 

Seung-gil picked the music, warning her not to laugh at his taste. Understanding dawned as the first song started and she recognised the unmistakable beats and vocals and must have shown in her face, because he shrugged, his body language expressing that he had no control over his culture. Slipping her arms around him, she glanced at the playlist, saw that it was called “romantic kpop”, and buried her face in his neck, fighting back the urge to laugh. She enjoyed this type of music, but would never have expected it from him.

He felt awkward in her arms again, a theme in the transitions between their moments of intimacy. Once again, she worked to break that tension down, letting her fingers run through his hair and avoiding eye contact until he relaxed against her. Each time he responded faster, still adjusting to the reality of her continued physical presence but growing in confidence with each kiss and touch.

Perhaps because it was music he knew, he took more of a lead at the start. Their movements weren't quite formal dancing, but there was definitely more structure than she was used to. Being in control of the dance pushed him into his skating head space, and his expression became closed as he focused on their steps. She watched him carefully, happy for him to dance however he chose, but wondering if he even knew he had emotionally withdrawn from her.

Lana saw clearly the moment he realised he'd slipped into “performance” mode, and his reaction tugged at her heart in painful ways. His eyes darkened and his head dropped, hiding his face in her hair. She could feel him trembling, his movements becoming stiff and disjointed as embarrassment washed over him.

An urge to take away his pain and sadness made her pull him into a deep kiss, wrapping her arms around him and pressing their bodies together. He responded, tightening his grip on her waist and murmuring against her lips as his frustrated trembling changed into a lustful shiver.

“Let me change the music” she said, and he nodded, stepping away from her. Determined not to lose the closeness she'd just won, she tugged him against her back as she scrolled through the app on his phone, smiling when he kissed her shoulder.

“Do you mind English lyrics?”

“You're distracting me enough not to care.”

The playlist was something called “power ballads”, and the band names were unfamiliar to him. She saved the playlist to his account and asked him to dock the phone while she dimmed the lights in the front room. The atmosphere shifted as the lighting changed, and his breath caught in his throat as he looked at her. Her skin was flushed and her eyes shone, and her glorious fall of straight, dark brown hair made even casual movements seem sinuous and lithe. Wondering how the hell this incredible woman had come into his life, Seung-gil mentally upgraded her from 'very, very attractive' to 'utterly gorgeous' as she returned to the circle of his arms.

Music flowed from the speakers, slow and sensual with heavy guitars and drums, and a lot of keyboards. He had no idea how to dance to any of it, and felt the familiar sense of frustration as awkwardness tried to reassert itself. Noticing the expression on his face, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her whole body against him, kissing him firmly until the music seeped into her body and she started to move.

Dancing with Lana was intoxicating, and not just because she peppered her movements with kisses and soft touches. There was structure to the way she moved, twisting and spinning on a whim and letting the music guide her, but it wasn't trained or deliberate. She just went where the music took her, moving closer or pulling away in response to something just outside of his comprehension. Unable to predict her motion, instead he simply followed the sway of her hips and wrapped himself around her.

By the third or fourth song they were practically grinding, hands buried in each other's hair, lips bruised and skin flushed. The changes to the songs stopped affecting the way he danced as he began to pick up on the undercurrents of passion and desire that united the playlist. Unconsciously, he began to lead the dance, and she followed gladly, laughing in delight when a tiny smile curled his lips.

He'd never felt so alive.  
  


“I know what we should do.”

Lana propped herself up on her elbow to look at him, blinking sleepily. They'd subsided after a few hours of dancing, returning to the couch for slow kisses and tired cuddling. Snuggling against him and losing herself in bliss as he stroked her hair, she'd been dozing and had to shake herself awake as he spoke.

“What we should do?”

Seung-gil gestured, taking in their bodies as they lay wrapped around each other, legs and arms tangled under a large pile of husky. Yu-Na had appeared once they'd stopped being so energetic, and neither of them had moved to stop her climbing onto the couch with them.

“About this. You and me. You said I had to decide what we should do.”

“I did.” She agreed. She had hated saying it, hated putting that much pressure on him, but she knew she couldn't take the lead on it. It was too important. _He_ was too important. As much as she wanted to be close to him, she knew how much he was struggling this season.

He had once tweeted that he hated women, and ever since it had been generally assumed by the skating community that he was either gay, or asexual. His rudeness to almost everyone he'd ever met was just as legendary, and most of the photographers and press she knew habitually avoided having to deal with him. She'd witnessed a high stakes poker game between several American journalists at the last Four Continents, and been amused to discover that they were betting over who had the 'punishment' of covering Seung-gil in the post event interviews.

Preparation for her time in Seoul had been mostly learning how to avoid annoying him, with help and advice from his team. She'd been stunned that he'd spoken to her at all, let alone been courteous and engaged. Their first dinner had been her attempt to avoid crowding him, something that Min-so had stressed repeatedly was a red flag for him. The aftermath – his honesty about his skating, and their eventual, unplanned intimacy – had shattered her image of him completely.

When he had asked her how she wanted to move forward, she'd understood immediately the damage an emotional tie could do to his skating, his self image, and his professional reputation. Putting it in his hands had been the only possible response.

The conversation with Leo had opened her eyes to the reality of him as a vulnerable person with a very effective tool bag to avoid being controlled or hurt. Since then, she'd managed to unpick more of the persona of Lee Seung-gil, and the real man in her arms. The idea of him resenting her because she'd distracted him from skating was repugnant, but she couldn't imagine how he would see it any other way. Her heart sank a little as she prepared to start emotionally disengaging from him, telling herself firmly to treasure the memories of the last few days and not have any regrets now that it was over.

“We should start dating.”

Shock rippled through her and her mouth dropped open, eyes huge. Curiously, Seung-gil raised an eyebrow at her expression. “You expected me to say something else?”

“I... yes. No. Maybe. I don't know” she shook her head, trying to recalibrate her thought processes.

“You don't want to.” It was a statement, his voice flat and devoid of emotion, and alarm bells rang in her mind. Looking up, she saw the way his expression closed in and he mentally withdrew again, tension creeping into his shoulders and jaw. He looked like her physical presence was painful to him, and it hurt her heart to see. Without hesitation she pulled him into a kiss, murmuring “I want to, I want to” against his lips until she felt his hands creep back into her hair. By the time she pulled back, his body had relaxed again and his eyes were hooded with desire.

“You constantly surprise me” she told him, and his lips twitched in another little almost-smile, the one she was certain very few people even knew he was capable of. “I need to stop underestimating you.”

“Surprising you is fun” he replied, tucking her head down onto his shoulder and sighing happily.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Seung-gil's playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/vanessa_alanis99/playlist/5SfGC4k7qoLU1Q1Q0eKhMD?si=YzcxN879QZiPkdK1-jNwRg)
> 
>  
> 
> [Lana's playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/spotify/playlist/37i9dQZF1DX7Z6mujTAuDc?si=zIZgXIhASHKIMJeeYp7Cvw)


	7. Chapter 7

Having the presence of mind to shower before leaving the rink, he at least smelled decent when he arrived at Lana's apartment. She answered the door with her phone headset on and some paperwork in her hands, smiling and welcoming him with a chaste kiss. Indicating through a gesture that she was nearly done with her call, she installed him in the kitchen with tea and a bowl of spiced chicken pieces to pick at while she finished up.

A glance into the front room revealed what looked like an explosion of papers, most of which had the Olympic logo in the corner. Observing her, he decided she looked harassed and her voice was clipped with concealed stress when she joined in the discussions. Listening for a few minutes, he felt increasingly guilty that she had offered to cook for him after a day of dealing with administration. By the time she escaped the call half an hour later, he had already washed up his dishes and ordered a takeaway.

“You're my knight in shining armour” she murmured, leaning against him and resting her head on his chest. He was perched on one of the high kitchen chairs, and he rested his chin on the top of her head with a tiny smile.

“How was practice? Did I miss any good shots?”

“I... I think I might be able to improve my PCS at PyeongChang.”

“What?! Really?! That's _fantastic!”_ she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes wide with surprise and shining in delight. “Tell me everything!”

  
Lana had texted him first thing that morning to let him know she'd have to miss his practice; some emergency conference call with her project supervisor that required several hours to prep for. She'd offered to cook dinner as an apology, and he'd warily accepted, with the caveat that if she cooked vegetables he would order a takeaway. The string of laughing vegetable emojis she'd sent as a reply didn't reassure him very much.

Warm up had been quick and easy; he still felt energised despite the second late night in a row. His brain was obviously enjoying the unexpected oxytocin he'd been swimming in since meeting... his girlfriend, she was his girlfriend; he had to repeat the word a few times in his mind, still finding it surreal. It had been years since he'd even been on _a_ date, let alone had a girlfriend.

Taking up his starting position on the ice, Seung-gil pushed his ear buds into place and lined up the music for his short program. Awareness of the rink faded as he focused, and he pushed into his first glide, the notes forming a second level of pacing in his consciousness, just below the automatic counting of steps and motions that had always guided him.

As he pushed into the first quad and adrenaline flooded into him, he was overwhelmed with a memory of the scent of coconut shampoo and warm lips against his throat. He hit the ice hard on his left hip and cursed, getting back up and carrying on into his first spin with a grimace.

Even as he entered the sit spin he could feel his balance was off. His heart was pounding in his chest, and the memories of the last few days weren't going away. He cursed again as he came out of the spin and saw how much he'd travelled. Tension threatened to engulf him and he started working his way through calculations in his mind, retreating into methods he had always used to calm himself.

Abruptly, another memory rose up, of soft kisses and hands in his hair, soothing away his stress and frustration but refusing to let him disappear inside his own head. Confounded, he stopped his music mid drill and just stood on the ice, staring blankly ahead.

_What do you think about when you skate?_

Drawing a small circle on the ice with the tip of his blade, an old ritual to clear his mind during a bad practice, he resumed his starting position and closed his eyes. This time, he allowed the memories to wash over him until the music started, and then deliberately shifted his focus onto the opening notes.

When Min-so had suggested 'Habanera' from Carmen or his short program he'd recognised it as a dynamic piece, well loved by the judges and used by successful skaters for decades. An instrumental version had been commissioned with a few slight extensions to take it to the required length. He'd agreed with his choreographer that it needed a dynamic opening, and placed his infamous quad loop in the first section accordingly.

_You don't think about the music, or the feeling of the dance?_

Learning the step sequence, he'd visualised dancing the piece in traditional ballroom style. The imaginary dance partner was almost featureless in his mind, the only part of them he deemed necessary was the technique. It could have been anyone, any gender. It hadn't even occurred to him to try and dance it with an actual person; he wasn't a pairs skater after all.

Now, he felt a phantom weight on his hands, and knew who danced beside him. He could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her skin. Pushing into his starting glide, he vaulted into the first quad as the song swelled in his ears and his reflexes tuned in to the rhythm of the music. His skate hit the ice exactly how he planned, and his heart soared as his body found its natural balance point, the next wave of sound leading him into the combo spin.

_Dance is about the feeling._

He'd watched Viktor Nikiforov for years before he'd made his senior debut, but he hadn't seen him as a living legend, more as a goal to be surpassed. He'd made that comment to Min-so once, and she'd asked him what he would do differently. When he'd said he wouldn't waste time with so much choreography and would focus on his jumps, she'd pointed out that if he did that, he would lose every single time. He'd expressed his immense frustration that figure skating included the Performance and Interpretation components at all. Technical skill and skating ability should be all that mattered, surely anything else belonged in Ice Dance?

Min-so had empathised with his thinking, and mercilessly put him through years of skating theory and study of the history of the sport to get it through his head that emotion _was_ as important to figure skating as technical elements. He'd accepted it, but never been able to embrace it for himself.

_Dancing without feeling isn't dance, it's just moving to music._

In every program he'd ever skated, the music was used to inspire the choreographer and to help him keep his timing while performing. Beyond that, he had barely cared what music was used, as long as it would be popular with the judges and could energise the crowd. His decision to skate a mambo at his first Grand Prix had been based on that last requirement, having studied the way that top skaters like Giacometti and Nikiforov used their presence on the ice. He'd been under pressure and hadn't skated well, but he knew better than to blame “Almavivo” for that.

He focused on the music, allowed it to enter the part of his mind that was usually full of numbers and calculations. Memories of kisses and laughter faded into a soft background, lightening his heart and his body as he slid to a stop, panting. No mistakes, and only a slight wobble going into the last flying combo spin..

Aware of an unusual silence around him, he raised his eyes and realised that the most of the people in the rink were staring at him. Blinking sweat out of his eyes and shaking his shoulders out, he made a few circuits to keep warmth, thinking through what he'd just done and putting the onlookers out of his mind. Once he was settled, he returned to his opening pose, took a long deep breath, and started again.

After two hours of drilling, Min-so waved him into a cool down and he went gladly, his training shirt nearly transparent with sweat, his sweat soaked hair hanging in his eyes. Feeling like he'd run a marathon, he changed into trainers and eased his way into his stretches as she made her way over to him.

“Whatever got into your head today, keep it there” she said, putting a fresh bottle of water down next to his training jacket. “I've never seen you skate so well.”

He was too tired to do anything more than stare at her in astonishment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Seung-gil's short program is based on this piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCRDFcrrlGs)


	8. Chapter 8

The next few weeks were hectic. Lana spent most of her time with the pairs team and the other singles skaters on their short program run-through. The schedule for the rink meant that she only occasionally crossed paths with him as Seung-gil was leaving or arriving. When he wasn't on the ice, he had physical training; cardio, weights, and dance. Aware that the Olympics were nearly upon them, the whole team stepped up into final preparation mode, pushing themselves into peak condition.

Knowing that he needed to conserve his energy for training and maintain a proper sleep schedule, they developed a habit of spending time in his apartment for an hour or so after he got home each evening. Initially they shared takeaway, but after a week or so she had figured out his preferences on food (meat, fish, rice, noodles, very occasional additions of non meat like kimchi) and was determined to cook for him. He was astonished to discover that he actually owned pans and cooking equipment.

Although she was a good cook, the main reason he enjoyed her food was that she tolerated his presence in the kitchen benevolently, and it extended the time they could get away with spending together. Seung-gil had never bothered being casually, regularly social with anyone, but to his surprise he found the domesticity of their hours together deeply satisfying. It helped that she was generous with affection and physical contact when he wasn't actively avoiding it, often stopping to exchange soft kisses, or feeding him samples for feedback while she was making things.

Lana recognised early on that he experienced the worst awkward tension mostly when he felt out of his depth, crowded or unclear on the context of their conversation. He withdrew like a turtle, tucking tightly into himself and settling his face into an aggressive frown. She'd seen the expression many times on press conferences, but with her new perspective on him she wondered how he even survived talking to the press, considering how unhappy and uncomfortable he became when he withdrew in that way. She asked him one evening while they were making dinner, and he hunched in on himself instantly, looking at the floor.

She'd learned a trick to re-engage him when he withdrew; she would ask him to physically do something for her such as fetching plates, making a drink, anything that would get him moving that didn't require speech or too much effort. Once he was _doing_ something he would usually find his way out of his thoughts enough to be able to respond to her conversation, and his tension would fade to the point where she could touch him again. He was extremely receptive to affection once he was relaxed.

This time, she set him to stirring the broth for soup, and he wrinkled his nose at the spinach swirling in the cloudy liquid as he considered her question. “What are you making, anyway?”

“Miso soup. It's Japanese. You'll like it. You don't have to eat the spinach, it's there for flavour as well.”

He poked a few pieces under the water, working his way through his answer. “I had some training for the press conferences, when I started in Juniors. I could barely talk to anyone back then, even people I knew; Min-so hired someone to teach me how to respond to official questions. I used to learn my answers by rote, and just scowl if any of the press went off script and asked me unusual things. By the time I moved up to the senior division, people knew not to bother asking me about anything except my current skate.”

“Most of them are afraid of you” Lana told him, slipping her arms around his waist and brushing her lips along his shoulder. “You're a fearsome opponent for reporters.”

They usually ate in the kitchen; it was the easiest way to avoid competing with Yu-Na for their food. The husky lay under Lana's chair, working on a doggy treat. She'd adopted the photographer as soon as evening meals at Seung-gil's place had become the norm, and was rarely very far from her.

“Itadakimasu” Lana placed a huge bowl of pork cuts and rice in front of him, setting the soup to the side and making a tiny bow over her chopsticks. He nodded a slightly awkward reply, then tried the meat.

“What _is_ this?? It's delicious!”

“Katsudon. Pork cutlet rice bowl. Viktor taught me how to make it when I was working in Russia. I saw the pork in the market today and thought you'd like it. There's egg in there as well.”

“Katsudon? Isn't that a Japanese word? Oh. Katsuki?”

“It's his favourite” she nodded, smiling.

“Victor learned to cook it for him?”

“Yes. Katsuki-kun told me he cried the first time Viktor cooked it, although that's because it was so bad. He ate the lot though” she laughed, her eyes unfocused as she remembered the conversation. “It was very romantic. ”

“Bad cooking is romantic?” He was teasing, although his expression was serious. Her lips twitched and he knew she'd picked up on the tone.

“Most things can be, if it's the right person doing it.”

Seung-gil didn't feel prepared to deal with that line of conversation, so he deflected.

“You seem to be able to talk to everyone. Why are you so good at languages? ”

“I'm latina.”

“I don't understand. You say that for many things.”

She laughed out loud, putting her chopsticks down and linking her fingers with his for a moment. “Sorry. Bad habit from college. I kept being asked 'how, how, how' – how can I take photographs like this, how do I know how to speak Spanish, how can I dress this way, or dance that way. It drove me mad. Just _being_ wasn't enough for those people, there had to be some other reason.” She started eating again, her amusement fading and her eyes becoming darker.

“One day, I asked a particularly critical guy on my course why he thought it was strange that I was good at my work, and he told me 'because you're Mexican'. Like that explained everything.”

“Racist asshole” Seung-gil reclaimed her hand, a little concerned at her expression. He'd never seen real sadness on her face before.

“Very much so. I mean, it wasn't the first time I'd heard something like that, but until then my work had stood by itself. It was a shock.” She shrugged, squeezing his fingers and smiling slightly. “After that I got pissed. Really angry. I started saying 'because I'm latina' every time someone asked me 'how'. Childish really.”

“No worse than giving death glares every time someone asks you an unexpected question” he pointed out, and she laughed, relaxing a little.

“I grew up speaking Spanish and English at home. Both my parents are Mexican, but they wanted us kids to learn English before school, so we spoke both. I didn't really understand that it was a useful skill until I met Leo when I was about six. He had almost no English, and he really struggled when we started school.”

“You helped him.” It wasn't a question, and she raised an eyebrow.

“How did you know?”

“He sounds English now. An educated guess.” _Because you're wonderful, and of course you would help someone who was struggling_ he didn't add, then wondered why he couldn't just say the words.

“He lost the last bits of his accent when he moved to Detroit to train, but good guess” she smiled. They left the table and began loading the dishwasher, Yu-Na trying gamely to trip them both up and intercept leftovers. Once they had cleared up and wrangled the husky away from the trash, they curled up on the couch together. Their last hour or so was usually spent snuggled up, talking, listening to music and kissing. Being strict with their time together left little room for anything more exciting, and neither of them felt the urge to do anything in a rushed, half hearted way.

“I made some new friends at college and we went on a tour of Europe together in our first summer. We spent four weeks travelling around different countries, filling up hundreds of memory cards with pictures that we could use for our editing projects over the final two years. They were all American and apart from one of them who spoke a little bit of Swahili, they only really knew English. It's a major African language” she added, noticing the blank look on his face.

“You were fluent in Spanish though.”

“Which was great in Spain, but not helpful anywhere else, really. English is the most common shared language in Europe, with French and Spanish after that. But when you speak English and you're with Americans... well, sometimes we didn't get the best reception from smaller towns and villages.”

Seung-gil remembered the few times he'd run into American tourists outside of Seoul, and how shopkeepers seemed happy to take their money, but treated them very casually and rudely. He hadn't thought about it at the time, mostly because he was also trying to avoid them, but looking back he wondered how it must have felt for the Americans at the time.

“So I bought a French phrasebook at the airport in Paris, and found out that I really liked being able to talk to new people in their own language. Being bilingual obviously prepared me well for language learning, because I was pretty good at it.”

“It's an enviable skill. I'm terrible” Seung-gil shook his head, pressing his nose against her hair. They were wrapped up under a blanket on the couch, Lana curled into his lap with Yu-Na keeping her feet warm. “I had to learn English when I started competing internationally, but it gave me such headaches. I have enough trouble talking in Korean. I'm bad at English and I know makes me sound like a moron as well as being horrible at people in general. I hate it.”

Lana made a sympathetic noise as he tightened his arms around her, and brushed her lips over his collarbone. “Not everyone can be good at everything. You speak volumes on the ice. Wait until you see me try to skate, you'll die laughing.”

“You can skate? Oh yes, I remember. Leo taught you recently, right?”

“Mmm. I've been skating since I was a teenager, but I'm not good at it. My balance is bad. I can move around on the ice but I suck at anything more complicated than forwards, backwards and side to side. Leo taught me better balance so I could shoot from the ice for the project.”

For some reason, the mention of the America skater always seemed to cause a hollow in Seung-gil's stomach. He suspected it was irrational jealousy, and clamped down on the feeling, returning to the original subject. “How many languages do you speak anyway?”

“Hmm. I can get by in about eight. I'm fluent in four – Spanish, English, Korean and Russian.”

“You aren't human.”

She kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss that made warmth spread throughout his whole body. “Only humans can kiss like that” she pointed out, and he shrugged, not bothering to hide his tiny smile. The sight of his lips curling made her heart lift and she kissed him again. It felt like she'd won the lotto every single time he did it.

“When I lived in Detroit I met people from all over the world. Learning to speak so many languages also helped me get various jobs, including this one.”

“Why did you move to Detroit? Isn't your family in Miami?”

“Work” she laughed, “A whole stable of talented international skaters to photograph. I learned so much about different kinds of photography during my degree, but my first love was always skaters, and by extension, ice. I spent a month in Alaska for my final project, freezing to death to take photographs of ice sheets and glaciers.”

“Huskies.”

“And Huskies” she agreed, tugging gently on Yu-Na's ear and getting a happy wuffle in return. “Working Huskies, not pampered princess Huskies. Just as cute though. Leo moved to Detroit to train with Celestino Cialdini for a while, and found out about a job for me there.”

A vague memory stirred. “You met Katsuki in Detroit?”

“Katsuki, and Phitchit Chulanont. Ciao Ciao convinced me to learn Italian as an excuse to drag me around the best Italian restaurants with his husband. Those two can _drink_. Leo only trained there for a few months before moving to New York, but I had a contract with Ciao Ciao for the publicity for his competing skaters, so I stayed on for another six months.”

“So now you had Spanish, English, French and Italian?”

“And a bit of Japanese and Thai.”

“Why did you learn Russian and Korean on top of all that? Where there not enough people to talk to in just those six countries?”

“I spent nearly a year in St. Petersburg working with the Russian team, as well as Yuuri Katsuki and Otabek Altin, so I got pretty good at Russian by the end. I decided to go for fluency in Korean for PyeongChang. I knew I'd be living here for at least six months, including the time in Seoul photographing you.”

“I'm glad you did. There's an excellent chance that if you had spoken English to me on that first day, I would never had spoken to you again.” He was embarrassed to admit it, but she shrugged and smiled, showing no surprise.

“Min-so warned me not to use English around you. She was so relieved when she found out I could speak Korean, especially since I made it clear that I was intending to talk to you about the project.”

Seung-gil blinked and moved so he could make eye contact with her.

“You two discussed me?”

“Of course. I spent nearly a month working with your team before I even got here. Not just about you, I had to learn about all the skaters, but there was some concern over my usual working methods when it came to you.” She saw the blankness on his face and elaborated. “With most of your competitors, I spent about a month just socialising with them, getting to know them. Sometimes it was only in groups – some of them just don't really spend much time alone, like Katsuki and Viktor. Others, it was more private, usually going out for dinner or going jogging together, things like that. I swear, I got fitter getting to know Phitchit than I've ever been in my life. He's an adorable masochist; if he's not on the ice he's either running or dancing.”

“Min-so knew none of that would work with you. She suggested that I wait for you to notice me on your own, she figured eventually you'd want to know what I was doing. After that, she just advised me to play it by ear and avoid crowding you too much.” She kissed him again, and smiled against his lips. “Who knew things would turn out like this.”

“Mmm. Who knew” he returned the kiss, and then frowned as the alarms on their phones went off in unison, quickly joined by a loud protest from Yu-Na who knew that it meant time for her new best friend to leave. “Damn.”

“Damn indeed” Lana uncoiled from him reluctantly, giving the sorrowing Husky a quick cuddle to calm her down.

Broaching a subject he'd been thinking about for a few days, Seung-gil pulled her close for one last kiss. “Sunday.”

“Sunday?”

“Are you busy?”

“Only in the afternoon, with the pairs team. You're off the ice for a rest day, aren't you?”

“Yes. Have dinner with me on Saturday night?”

“Like a date?” her smile was mischievous.

“Yes. Exactly that. I'll book a table.”

“I'm in” she said, then sighed as the snooze on her alarm went off with an irritated buzz. “A night without a curfew sounds wonderful.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could there be raunchy times in the next chapter??
> 
> Slow burn indeed XD Also, I need to add some sex related tags, or no-one is ever going to read this *cries*


	9. Chapter 9

“Don't be mad with me...”

Leo rolled his eyes at the laptop camera, taking in the attempt at innocence on his boyfriend's face. “Why, what have you done?” he asked, knowing it would be almost impossible to be mad with him anyway. Guang Hong was adorable, especially when he suspected he was in trouble.

“Well... after the other week, I've been sort of... keeping an eye on Seung-gil's tag on Instagram.”

“This again??”

“You didn't believe me! So I... was keeping an eye out. For proof.”

“Oh for the love of... I didn't say I didn't believe you.”

“No, you said I was mad and that it was physically impossible because Lee Seung-gil was a robot.”

“Exactly.”

Leo's phone buzzed as Guang Hong sent him a link. “I found proof.”

A tagged shot from someone's Instagram feed, clearly showing Lee Seung-gil and a woman in a expensive restaurant. The Seoul skyline was in the background, and the caption was in Hangul but translated to 'mystery woman with Lee Seung-gil?!?!?!'

“Proof.”

“Rubbish” Leo gave Guang Hong a disapproving look.

“You don't think it's Lana?!”

He knew it was, even though he couldn't see her face. The bracelet she was wearing in the picture had been his gift to her for her 18th birthday. She rarely took it off.

“It's her. But look, it doesn't mean anything! How many times did you go out for dinner with her when she was in Beijing working on your photos?”

“Dozens. That's not the point. They're at N Grill!” Seeing the blank look on Leo's face, he explained. “It's THE romantic spot in Seoul. Look at the comments on the picture!”

He looked. It made him wince. Fans could be scary sometimes.

“Why aren't you more excited about this, Leo? You don't like him?”

“I've only spoken to him maybe three times? The only thing I know about him is that he's horrible to everyone, but then, Lana could charm the devil himself” he chewed his lip thoughtfully, frowning at the picture.

“He's not... well, no, he _is_ that bad, just maybe not with her?”

“It's just... she hasn't told me. Maybe he told her not to say anything” Leo said, quietly.

Guang Hong thought about that for a moment, then shook his head, browsing for more photographs from the restaurant. “No, that's not it. No one could control Lana like that.”

Leo bit his lip, but didn't respond.

 

Yu-Na was so over-excited when they arrived back after dinner that Seung-gil threw on his trainers and took her straight out for a jog to try and settle her down. Waving away his apology for his housemate, Lana filled the time by clearing up the kitchen, checking her emails and making cinnamon spiced Gugija-cha in the slow cooker. He dived straight into the shower when he got back, and she fed Yu-Na, shut her gently in the kitchen and settled down on the couch, searching for music. When he emerged dripping and wearing clean training clothes, she pulled him into a dance immediately.

“Spanish music?” he asked after a few songs.

She flicked some water from the ends of his hair. “Latina music” she corrected. “Romanticas Latinas.”

The songs reminded him of the first evening they'd spent together, and he smiled.

“We haven't danced in a while. I missed it” he told her, folding her into his arms.

“I did too. No time recently.”

“We have time tonight” he pointed out, and her lips twitched mischievously.

“I know. No curfew.”

“No curfew” he agreed. “We can dance all night if you like.”

“Hmmm” she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him, twisting her fingers into his hair. “Or not” she murmured, nipping his lower lip softly as she pulled back. To Lana's amusement, he whimpered as the unexpectedly intimate touch shut down most of his higher brain functions for a moment.

Sensing she'd just overloaded him, she tugged him down onto the couch, brushing his hair out of his eyes until he could refocus on her. Once she was sure he was back in the room she kissed him again, slowly and deliberately, and he responded by pulling her into his lap and sinking his fingers into her hair, letting the tip of his tongue brush against her lower lip.

Unsure if he'd intended to deepen the kiss, she waited until he did it a second time, then sighed happily and returned the tentative touch with her own. Up until now, they'd made at least some effort to keep things PG when they were alone together, but the mood was _charged_ this evening. Desire heated their kiss, and she pushed him onto his back on the couch, parting her lips for him eagerly.

 

Seung-gil had gone to considerable lengths to make things special, even buying new clothes to wear for the meal, which had shocked Lana when he arrived at her flat. Seeing him in black slacks and a dark blue button down shirt had rendered her completely speechless for long minutes. He'd been equally dumbstruck, trying to deal with the sight of her in a gold, floor length dress, with complicated braids in her hair and a delicate gold bracelet half way up her arm.

The restaurant he'd chosen was at the top of N Seoul Tower, one of the most romantic and well known destinations in the city. By the time they were seated he had regained some of his ability to speak, and Lana demonstrated her endless compassion and empathy by encouraging him to focus on stories about skating for the entire first two courses. He had lacked the ability to thank her verbally, so he settled for resting his calves against hers beneath the table, maintaining subtle physical contact as they ate and talked.

Both of them were conscious of being seen in public together, especially given the venue. Seung-gil had considered restaurant options for days, but he couldn't stand the thought of taking her somewhere less than astonishing on their first proper date. Eventually he'd decided to go with the most popular romantic destination, resolving to ignore any online responses if he was recognised. At least his fans knew better than to approach him; his reputation granted him a certain amount of peace outside of actual competitions.

They'd declined dessert, opting for alcohol free cocktails in the Terrace bar instead. The views of Seoul at night were spectacular, and Lana made him promise to bring her again one day so she could take photographs. When he'd asked why she didn't take any now, she'd simply given him a sweet smile in response and pressed her arm gently against his for a moment.

 

Stepping out of the shower after walking the dog, he was _almost_ sure that Lana had enjoyed herself, but he knew he'd have doubts unless she told him directly. Prepared to ask the embarrassing question, he followed the sound of music into the lounge, and found himself being pulled into a slow, sultry dance. He decided he'd ask later on, and let himself flow into the motion of her hips, wrapping himself around her with a sigh of contentment. It seemed to get easier every time; to just relax and let his body move without thought... with _feeling_ , as Lana had phrased it.

He wasn't expecting her to increase the intimacy between them and it threw him for a moment, but he adjusted quickly to the new dynamic and then decided to take a risk and continue the escalation. Before long he was flat on his back on the couch, and they were drowning in each other.

 

Lana shifted her weight onto his hips and he groaned, the position making it impossible to hide how much she was affecting him. She sat up with a smirk, running her fingers over his throat and down, teasing the fabric of his shirt. One of the reasons she liked Seung-gil was the way he had been so comfortable with the slow pace she'd needed. Most men in her experience were greedy and dominant, interested in their own pleasure and in getting what they wanted from her. The look in his eyes was hungry, but she knew him well enough by now to trust that he would let her take the lead and not push things beyond her limits.

She tugged at his shirt and he obediently arched off the couch and let her pull it over his head, capturing her mouth with a deep kiss once she returned to his arms. He hummed happily against her lips as her hands explored his body, tracing patterns over his shoulders and chest.

Unable to resist, she sat back again and enjoyed the sight of him, runnning her fingers over the dense ridges of his stomach muscles. No matter how many times she looked at or photographed him, she could never get used to the physical beauty of the man beneath her. 

Due to her work and social circle she'd been intimate with athletes before, but they had mostly been caucasian, with heavy builds and broad shoulders. Seung-gil was asian, and had a naturally slender, almost delicate frame. He seemed deceptively small when he was in his usual training clothes, but she had spent enough time around skaters to know he would be strong; that his profession would have given him a thick layer of muscle under his pale skin, both the result of over a decade of hard training on the ice, away from the sun.

Her expression must have been just as hungry as his, because he pulled her back down to him and pressed his lips to her jaw, trailing kisses and gentle nips down until he could run his tongue over her collarbone. She sank his fingers into his hair with a soft murmur of pleasure, resting her weight on his torso.

Given how much he was enjoying what they were doing, the weight on his thighs quickly left him panting against her skin, the desire for friction becoming unbearable. Feeling the tension growing in his muscles and hearing his whimpers every time she rocked her hips, she smiled into his kiss. 

“Bedroom?” she asked, and his eyes widened before he nodded firmly, in no condition to use words.

She stood up and let him lead the way in silence, aware that both of them were shaking with nerves and lust. At the bottom of the bed she stopped him and turned, indicating the zip on the back of her dress. He pressed tightly against her, kissing her shoulders as he eased the straps down over her arms, working the zip carefully.

As she felt the fabric relax and loosen around her body, a flush of panic went through her and she clutched the dress despite herself. He felt her hesitation and stopped, instantly.

“Nothing you don't want” he murmured into her ear, lacing his fingers through hers and moving his body away to give her space. With a sigh, she turned in his arms, acknowledging the effort it had taken for him to speak with a soft kiss.

“I want to... but...” she lowered her eyes, finding it easier if she wasn't looking at him. “My body... I have... scars. My past... I didn't know how to bring it up.”

For a long moment he stared at her blankly, then understanding dawned and he frowned. “You thought I would be put off?” he ventured, and she laughed, her voice a little shaky.

“Maybe.”

“Unlikely” he said, stepping away from her and sitting on the edge of the bed, still holding her hand. “But we don't have to do anything tonight. Or at all. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.” His expression was open, completely without pretence or guile, and she felt her fears evaporating as she looked down at him. Gratefully she kissed him again, then took a deep breath and let the dress fall to the floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank god, finally some sexy times! It's taken sooo long...


	10. Chapter 10

Before she had time to become self conscious again, Seung-gil tugged her into his lap on the bed and into a kiss. He didn't trust himself to look at her for too long anyway, he was sure he would pass out from the sight of her in just a thong. He hadn't considered that there was unlikely to be a bra under the strappy dress, and even feeling her naked against his chest was nearly too much.

After a few minutes of kissing softly and adjusting to the feeling of skin on skin, they shifted so they were fully on the bed, nestled into the pillows. Reclined comfortably in her arms, he felt strong enough to take a proper look down at her.

“Beautiful” he murmured, his eyes drinking in the sight of olive skin and smooth curves. Carefully and curiously, he ran his fingers along the line of her ribs, tracing the mixture of surgical and trauma scars that curved up between her breasts and down almost as far as her hip, broken by the line of her underwear. “These... you are beautiful. Scars make no difference.”

“I...” her voice caught and he looked up, seeing the darkness of bad memories in her eyes.

“You don't have to tell me. Not ever, if you don't want. You are _beautiful,_ Lana.” He realised it was the first time he'd actually said her name while being this close to her, and he liked how it felt. Leaning in to kiss her, he murmured it again and she wrapped herself around him.

Warm hands moved over unfamiliar skin, stroking and exploring each other. At some point, she grew tired of the feel of fabric under her fingers and he obligingly removed his jogging pants when she tugged. Resting against her hip in just underwear, he discovered his own moment of self consciousness and flushed, trying to stop a deluge of paranoid thoughts from distracting him. Tilting his chin into a kiss, she rolled them and wrapped her long legs around his calves, pulling him tightly against her. They both moaned softly, their kiss becoming hungrier as they felt the heat of each other.

The urge to grind against her was nearly overwhelming but he refused to give in to that selfish temptation, instead bracing himself on his elbows and moving his weight to the side, creating space between them and resting his hand on her hip.

“May I touch you?” his request was soft and breathed against her cheek, the desire in his voice unmistakable. Still, he ignored her nod and waited for her to fully vocalise her consent before he moved his hand. When she felt him dip between her legs, she buried her face into his hair to muffle her moan of relief.

Her thong was an immediate inconvenience and he tugged it away, letting his hand trail back up the inside of her thigh as she gladly removed the fabric. Resting on one arm, he captured her lips and pressed against her heat until she opened herself beneath him. The sounds she made as he explored her body made it impossible for him to kiss her, avoid loosing control of himself and breathe all at the same time, so he buried his face into her neck again, forcing himself to concentrate on mapping her with his fingertips, seeking one particular spot.

Nails dug into his shoulder as he brushed against the sensitive peak and she moaned, her hips twitching. He smiled against her throat and began stroking slow patterns in the same place, listening to the way her breath hitched, changing direction and speed occasionally until he found a rhythm that made her gasp and arch up against his hand.

Never, in the entire time they'd been intimate, had Lana expected him to be a virgin, but discovering that Seung-gil had experience with the more intimate parts of the female body was a very pleasant shock. She knew from the confident, consistent way he was touching her that he wouldn't get bored with the effort and leave her unsatisfied; she held him tightly and let herself focus entirely on the pleasure he was stroking into her.

As she felt tension begin to coil in her stomach, she moaned his name and grabbed onto the sheets as her hips arched off the bed. He was breathing hard against her skin, but all she could feel was the heat rising under his skilled fingers.

“D-don't stop... oh fuck...”

She had reverted to English but he celebrated hearing the words, knowing that he was fusing _her_ language centres for once. He closed his eyes as her moans changed into throaty cries and her hips bucked against his hand, silently begging his body not to embarrass him due to the sounds of her climax. She coiled like a spring for long moments as white hot pleasure pulsed through her and then collapsed back against him, whimpering and gasping as he gently withdrew his fingers and wrapped his arms around her.

“I think I like to hear you speak English now” he murmured into her ear, and she laughed shakily, curling around him and pressing her face into his chest. After a few moments, she collected herself enough to switch back to Korean.

“Thank you...”

“Any time.”

“I'll hold you to that” she told him, kissing his collarbone softly and sighing as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I owe you...”

“You owe me nothing. It is not a transaction” he interrupted, kissing her nose. She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head in disbelief.

“If I decided to go home right now, you wouldn't care?”

“I'd prefer you to stay, I'd like to sleep next to you tonight. But I would understand.”

“You know what I mean!”

Seung-gil shrugged, rolling onto his back and pulling her into his chest. She propped herself up on her elbows to look at him, aware of how hard he was against her thigh. His dark eyes were full of desire, but calm and soft.

“Are we in a rush to do everything?” he asked, brushing a braid behind her ear.

“No... of course not. But...”

Giving up with words, he pulled her up into a soft kiss, trying to express his tangle of feelings. Lust was still firmly in the forefront of his mind, but the idea of her doing anything out of a sense of obligation made his skin crawl.

“I want you to _want_ to, not feel you _have_ to” he murmured, and she nodded, shifting her weight so she was lying beside him.

“I understand... and I want to."

"Then OK."

"I... can we wait to... to go any further? I want to make you feel good, but I c-cant..."

"Nothing you don't want" he repeated, and she sighed, pressing her lips against his chest. 

"Thank you." Considering her options, she eased her knee between his thighs and heard his breathing stutter. "I... I want to taste you" she decided, watching as he bit his lip and shivered at her words. "May I?"

When he gave his enthusiastic consent, it was in English, and delivered with a tiny smile.

Starting slowly, she began with a deep kiss, sweeping her tongue against his and catching his lower lip between her teeth. Agile fingers trailed down his chest and onto the waist of his boxers, encouraging him to remove them as her lips followed the line of his throat. He did as he was bid and sank his hands into her hair, closing his eyes as she shifted her weight to kneel between his thighs, resting her hands on his chest.

She sat back and took another long look at him as she ran her hands over his torso, just because she could. Perfectly sculpted muscles twitched under her light touch, his skin flushing and his breathing uneven. With her hair out of his reach he shifted his grip to the sheets and murmured something in a completely mangled dialect when she trailed her fingers down the V of his stomach.

Leaning forward and letting her weight press against his pelvis to make him gasp, she let her tongue flick across the peak of a nipple. He moaned and arched against her, moving her lips away with an apologetic noise.

“Too much...”

Understanding that teasing was not on the table given his present state, she kissed his fingers in sympathy and then moved her mouth to where he needed it the most. The moan that ripped out of his throat as she wrapped her lips around his arousal was the loudest noise she'd ever heard from him, and she had to grip his thighs to stop him choking her as his hips bucked. He sank his hands deeper into the sheets desperately, letting her take control of his movement as she pleasured him.

Intense heat twisted inside him almost immediately, and he knew he was going to be painfully, embarrassingly quick. The pressure and heat of her mouth drove him relentlessly towards climax, and it took everything he had to hold back enough to warn her that he was close. He expected her to pull away, so he was woefully unprepared for her lips to tighten around him as she hollowed her cheeks and added more pressure. He slammed into orgasm with something approaching a scream, every muscle in his torso throbbing and pulsing as he collapsed back onto the bed.

When awareness of the world outside of his own body returned, he found her resting on his chest, one hand curled around his shoulder and the other drawing the sheets around them. He realised he was shivering, and lifted his weight so she could wrap them both up in warm, soft cotton.

“I'm sor...”

Without letting him finish, she drew him into a kiss that silenced any further apologies. He could taste himself in her mouth, and his arms tightened around her like a vice. When she allowed him breathe again, he rolled his weight so they were lying facing each other and pushed her hair out of her eyes.

“Shall I stay the night?” she asked, and he nodded immediately.

“Please. I need to take Yu-Na out before sleep though.”

“Mmm. Want some company?”

“No, it's cold tonight. Stay here and keep the bed warm?”

“OK. Be quick” she smiled, and he pulled her back into his arms for a last, lingering kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all the smut they can stand... for now!! 
> 
> More plot up next, but there will be more smut further on. Also, sexy tags seem to be working, hello new readers!


	11. Chapter 11

“I have something to ask you. It's about when we go to the Olympics.”

Seung-gil looked up from his BBQ, the nervous tone of her voice getting his immediate attention. Lana pushed her food around her plate, biting her lip. She'd been dreading this conversation for days, but they were running out of time. PyeongChang was only two weeks away.

They'd returned to their routine of evening dinner a little reluctantly, both of them craving more intimacy but knowing that some things would just have to wait. Neither of them had much time before the Korean team were due to travel to PyeongChang.

Lana seemed worried, not something he was used to, so Seung-gil set his chopsticks down carefully and rested his chin on his hands. “What is it?”

“I've been thinking about when we're in PyeongChang. I'll be in a different part of the complex, with the press. I probably won't see much of you.”

“I know. I'm not looking forward to that. But it's only for two weeks.”

“I won't see much of Leo either... and I haven't seen him for nearly two years. I... I'll have to decide who to spend time with. I'll chose you, as much as I can, but... but I don't want to lie to him about where I'm going or why I'm not around.”

“I don't understand. What is it you're asking? You want me to... speak to him?”

“No! I wouldn't ask you to do anything like that!” she winced at the look on his face as he contemplated having to socialise with the American skater. “I wouldn't do that to you, Seung-gil” she said, taking his hand and squeezing gently until the frown faded.

“What then?”

“I just... I want to tell him about you. About us. Would that be OK?.”

Frowning, he stared at her with such an intense look of confusion that she wondered if she'd accidentally switched to English. She replayed her last sentence in her mind, confirmed it was in Korean, and bit her lip again. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked...”

“I don't understand. I assumed you had already told him?”

“Huh?”

 

When Leo answered the video call, she could tell she'd caught him in the middle of packing for the Games. The bedroom in the background was an explosion of bright slogan t shirts, his appalling Hawaiian shirt collection, and a dozen different coloured pairs of Converse. Answering the skype request, he gave her a distracted wave and then went back to his suitcase, glaring at it as if it should fill itself.

“So... have you packed anything besides your skates?”

“I knew I'd forgotten something...”

“Leo, listen. I need to tell you something.”

Giving up with his clothes in disgust, he dropped into his computer chair. Abruptly, she decided to resort to their old method of telling each other bad or difficult news; the Casual Important Information Drop.

“So I'm dating Seung-gil Lee, and you'll probably meet him at the Olympics.”

“I know.”

She gaped at him, and he gave her a quick grin. “Thought you could out-Casual me? Hah.”

“ _How long have you known??”_

“A while.” He leaned forward and poked his camera with a finger, his expression guarded. “More importantly, why didn't you tell me? Did he tell you not to?”

“No! No” she smiled, touching her camera gently in return. “Nothing like that. He thought I already had, actually. I just... he's a very private person. I didn't want to overload him.” She rolled her eyes, sighing. “I underestimated him again. I keep doing that.”

Leo pulled a slight face. “Is he being good to you?” Her answering smile was like the sun coming up. “Good. That's all I need to know.”

“Please don't try to talk to him at the Games. He's under enough pressure, he won't respond well to it.”

“Fine. But we're having breakfast before we leave. You, me, him, Guang Hong. No arguments.”

“I'll wait until that morning to tell him. He's usually more pliable when he's hungry and offered food.”

Leo shrugged, turning back to the chaos of his bed. “Whatever you want. Now help me pick some clothes so I don't look ridiculous or freeze to death.”

  
Two days before they were due to travel, Lana raised another important point with Seung-gil. Specifically, that if he expected Min-so to be OK with her presence during the competition, he probably should tell her they were dating.

“Fine” he said, tossing a pile of clothes in the direction of his suitcase with a groan. Ignoring his mood, Lana calmly took them out again and started to fold them, discarding anything that looked worn out or too old. “Don't expect it to be a big conversation though. We don't talk to each other like that.”

“What ever you think is best. You don't need all this old stuff, you'll get new clothes there. Plus you've got your 2018 team gear.”

He rescued a South Korea hooded training jacket from the reject pile, turning it over in his hands. “I wore this for my first Grand Prix. That was a bad skate.”

“You took silver at NHK wearing it too, don't forget.”

“Mmm.” He tossed the jacket aside and picked up one of the Olympic team jackets that had arrived a week ago. “Here.”

“I've already put two in.”

“No. This is for you.”

She stared at him for a moment, then smiled and took the jacket, slipping it on to try for size. Apart from the tightness across the chest, it was a good fit. “Thank you. Why?”

“If I can't spend much time with you, at least you can keep a bit of me with you.”

It was probably the most romantic thing he'd ever said to her, and her response was to jump straight into his arms.

  
In the end, he 'told' Min-so by walking up to them as they looked over pictures on Lana's laptop, dropping the line “show me my shots over dinner later” and then walking out without a backwards glance. Lana reported that the expression on her face went from confusion, understanding and then astonishment. Once the surprise had worn off, Min-so gave Lana a long, cool look and then walked away, shaking her head and laughing quietly to herself.

Lana threatened to punish him by speaking only in English to him for an entire evening, and he responded by making it very difficult for her to concentrate on talking at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect lots of cameo appearances from the top International Figure Skaters in the next few chapters!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: minor reference to eating disorders

Gangneung was throbbing with people when the Korean team arrived, athletes from dozens of disciplines exploring the accommodations and shopping areas. Lana quickly found herself separated and herded in the direction of the Press Village, sending Seung-gil a text gif of a howling husky as apology. His response was a curled up, peacefully sleeping husky sticker, which she had learned to interpret as “it'll be fine”.

The sign in was horrendous and there was an 'orientation' lecture that consisted of a twenty minute listing of everything they weren't allowed to do, and everywhere they weren't allowed to go. Escaping before she had to hear the phrase “no upskirt photographs” any more times, she found her suite and met her cellmates for the next two weeks. Hungry, fed up with the press core already and generally wanting a cuddle, she went in search of Leo.

His text suggested he was already exploring the coastal shopping village in search of dinner. In the absence of his vegan boyfriend, who wasn't due to arrive for another few hours, he demanded she help him find Korean BBQ. Eventually, she found him taking selfies with some of his team mates outside a Polo Ralph Lauren apparel store.

“Traitor” he said mildly, indicating the Team Korea training jacket she was wearing under her winter coat. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“So you don't want me to explain the BBQ menu for you?”

Walking towards the food areas, he slung an arm around her neck and gave her a squeeze. In flat boots she was the same height as him, and they pushed and shoved at each other like kids until they were installed at a table near some rowdy Australians.

“When's he getting in?”

“I've got time to eat, clean my teeth and try and disguise my meat hangover before he gets here. Something about delays getting their skates through Chinese customs. Again.”

“Every time” she shook her head. Glancing over the menu, she made a few pork based suggestions, which he wrinkled his nose at. As he was eyeing his options, her phone buzzed.

“Oh. Apparently Seung-gil's roommate is hyperactive and trying to talk to him. He's asked if he can come hide with us.”

“Geez. It must be bad if he wants to come and socialise to escape.”

“Don't expect him to talk. Or listen to you” she warned him, raising an eyebrow as she shot back a gif of a big flashing “BBQ” emoji and a photograph of the place they were eating. A howling husky stamp came back as a reply, and she tucked her phone away with a smile.

“Should we wait to order?”

“No, I'll order for him.”

“Wow. You two really are serious, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Well, I mean, he branded you already” he gestured to her jacket again and she threw a balled up napkin at him. “Don't you dare be mean to him. You promised to be nice.”

“I did no such thing! I promised not to talk to him. There was no clause about being nice.”

“Leo!”

They bickered for a few minutes before he spotted a familiar looking frown in the crowd and nudged her. “Is that your boy over there?”

Lana turned and gave him a wave, and Seung-gil slid into a seat next to her with a sigh of relief. He ran his eyes over Leo, who was pretending to read the menu and failing to conceal a grin.

“Thank you for the rescue. Wan Jun-cho is so excited, I didn't have the heart to tell him to leave me alone.”

“You're going soft” she told him, pushing his tea into his hand. He made a face and inhaled the steam gladly. “I ordered for you.”

“Oh? Thank you.”

“Vegetable rice is ok, yes?”

“I know that was a joke. Please don't joke about food, I can't take much more today.”

Laughing, she apologised and showed him what she'd ordered on the menu. He nodded and drank his tea, still avoiding making eye contact with Leo.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but you should probably know there's an angry, blonde Russian stomping in this direction” Leo said, and they both looked around as two thirds of the Russian Figure Skating team descended upon them. Seung-gil's expression turned to pure misery at the prospect of so many people around him, and without hesitation Lana pulled his phone out of his pocket and offered him her headphones.

“What's the English word for goddess” he demanded, and she laughed.

“Nothing you'd want to pronounce” she replied, and gave him a fond look as he fought back a smile. Shoving his headphones into his ears, he fired up his browser and disappeared into his phone with a sigh of relief.

“You're sure he's not a robot?” Leo asked, and Lana slapped him on the arm.

“English gives him a headache, and he thinks it makes him sound illiterate because he's not good at it. You should remember what that feels like.”

Staring at the happily oblivious Seung-gil, he opened and shut his mouth a few times. “Is _that_ why he's always so awful to the press?”

“One of the reasons, yes. I told you, he's different than people think.”

“Lana! You've ignored three of my texts today. What the fuck.”

Leaping up to hug Victor and Otabek, she gave Yurio an affectionate look. “It almost sounds like you missed me” she grinned, as he submitted to a hug with only a tiny grimace.

Seung-gil glanced up at the new arrivals and hunched in on himself even further, looking like he was trying to disappear into his jacket. Feeling an unexpected burst of sympathy for him, Leo pushed a chair over at Victor with his foot. “Why don't you sit down and stop making the place look untidy” he suggested with a smile.

Dropping into a chair beside Otabek, Yurio looked curiously at the Korean. “Why the fuck is he here” he demanded, and Leo hid his expression behind his tea.

“You know I was working with the Korean team last.”

“That's not an answer.”

“He's eating dinner. Got a problem with that?”

“Whatever. Victor, sit the fuck down.”

The tallest member of the group was stood awkwardly, alternating between scanning the hall and checking his phone. Lana smiled at him sympathetically.

“Yuuri's in the Japanese dorms, right?”

The response was a soft whine, and Yurio rolled his eyes. “It's fucking ridiculous. They've been apart for literally two hours and he's about ready to pine away and die.”

“He can't help it” Otabek rumbled, “don't tease him.”

“Whatever” the mildness in the reply from the blonde made Lana grin, and Leo raised an eyebrow. “Lana, what's safe to eat?”

“Order the BBQ with Kimchi side. 98% meat, and the cabbage is a bit like sauerkraut. Stick with cola though, you'll hate almost all the teas.”

“Where _is_ he” Victor whined, sitting down with a thump and running his hands through his hair.

“Order for him, he'll be here soon” Otabek suggested, flicking through the options with a frown.

In the end, Lana ordered for all of them. Yuuri Katsuki arrived looking harried and stressed just as the food was delivered, looking curiously at Seung-gil. Forced out of politeness to remove his headphones to eat, the Korean nevertheless consistently ignored any attempts at interaction from the Russian team.

Victor became chatty and animated once Yuuri was installed next to him, and quizzed Lana on her activities since leaving St Petersburg. Quite naturally, he followed it up with a question about her plans after the Olympics.

“Mmm. Yet to be decided” she said, managing through sheer force of will not to glance at Seung-gil. They'd been pushed closer together when Yuuri arrived, and he had hooked his foot behind her ankle at some point, trusting the mass of bags and legs beneath the table to cover the move. As she replied to Victor's question, she felt his muscles tense for a moment and knew he was listening.

“I've got bids in place for the ISU events next season, of course.”

“Instagram again? Fuck that.” Yurio poked at his food, then caught Otabek watching him and took a listless bite of chicken. “You're an artist, you're better than that.”

“Art doesn't always pay the bills” she smiled. “I don't know what I'll do until the Grand Prix.”

“Will you base back in America?” Leo asked carefully, watching Seung-gil. The Korean had stopped eating, and was holding his chopsticks as if he'd forgotten what they were for as he tuned in to the conversation, his expression locked in a frown. Now he understood his difficulty with the language, Leo recognised the expression as frustration at his inability to translate, and felt another pang of sympathy.

“Undecided” she said, looking down at her hands for a moment. “I've got a month left on my visa here, with the option to renew for another six months if I... if my work needs more time. It's amazing what the Korean government will let you get away with on an Olympic project.”

“I didn't know that” Seung-gil said, speaking in Korean. As the rest of the table stared at him in shock, Lana tilted her head towards him and replied in the same language.

“You didn't ask, and I didn't want to bring it up before the Olympics. You've got enough to think about.”

“Mmm. I should have asked.”

“It's fine. We can talk about it tonight if you want?”

“No. You're right, I need to concentrate. Besides, Min-so has Views about me spending too much time with you before my skate. But” he paused and raised his eyes to hers, his frown fading slightly, “another six months is good news. Yes?”

“Yes. Very good news.”

“What the unholy fuck? How come the robot talks to _you_?” Yurio demanded, staring at Seung-gil, who studiously turned back to his food and pretended not to understand.

“Everyone talks to Lana” Katsuki said, his expression soft and understanding. Lana winced as she remembered how similar Korean was to Japanese, and then shrugged with a slight smile, changing the subject by asking Yurio if he was looking forward to losing to Katsuki in the short program and causing an explosion of swearing. Otabek gave her a grateful smile as the blonde waved his fork at her in outrage, eating aggressively and without conscious thought.

Leo left before Guang Hong arrived, wanting to rid himself of the aroma of meat before he met up with his vegan boyfriend. That started the process of breaking the group up, with only a mild series of exclamations when Seung-gil paid for Lana's meal without even thinking about it. She just laughed at them and indicated her training jacket, as if that explained everything. Yurio gave Seung-gil a speculative look, then gave them a wave and set off after Victor at a jog, shouting something about the older man having the room keys.

 

As they left the food village and headed back towards the Athlete's accommodations Otabek pulled her aside, raising an eyebrow as Seung-gil automatically stopped with them as well.

“How's Yurio doing?” she asked, watching the retreating Russians and tugging her coat around her in the cold air. The shrug and frown from the Kazakh was eloquent, but he smiled a little.

“Better. The specialist has really helped. I... I wanted to thank you.”

“No need. I didn't do anything.”

“You saw what even Yakov missed. What _I_ missed.”

Lana gave his arm a squeeze, hating how dark his expression had become. “Only because I was photographing him so closely. Malnutrition is easier to spot in extreme close up.”

“You might have saved his life. You definitely saved his career. He wouldn't have made it here if it had been just up to me to see.”

“Stop that” she said, turning him to face her and gripping his shoulders. “Life is a team sport, not a singles match. You can't do everything on your own. You're helping him now, I can see it. He's trying hard, and part of that is for you.” She glanced over his shoulder and gave him a little push in the direction of the others. “He's waiting for you. Don't get yelled at.”

“I live to get yelled at” Otabek replied, giving her a grin. He nodded politely to Seung-gil before jogging to catch up with the others.

“Eating disorder?” Seung-gil asked, watching the irate blonde cuss him out for taking so long.

“Mmm. I picked up on it last year while I was photographing him. Little things. Skin tone, brittle hair, the colour of his eyes. He was good at hiding it, it might have been a few years before he finally collapsed.”

Seung-gil shuddered, pressing his shoulder against hers for a moment. “I've seen it before, it's a terrible thing. It's good that you saw it.”

“Otabek blames himself for not noticing. They've been living together since Yurio's eighteenth birthday, he feels he should have seen it. He's too close. Besides, Yurio would have been excellent at hiding it from him.”

“They're official now?”

She gave him a curious look. “You care?”

Seung-gil shrugged, meeting her eyes. “You do. So I do.”

“You're adorable, do you know that?”

 


	13. Chapter 13

“The next competitor on the ice... representing Korea... Seung-gil Lee.”

The crowd seemed a long way away as he slid to a stop in the centre of the rink, taking up his starting position. As he'd stepped onto the ice he'd risked a glance to the left, and Lana had lowered her camera so he could see her face. Her smile was subtle, but it sent a warmth through him from his scalp to his toes.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he summoned up the memory of dancing with her; the passion and joy that soaked into him through her touch. As the opening notes of 'Habanera' filled his ears, he raised his arms and let the music wrap around him. When he landed his first quad loop, he barely heard the audience explode with cheers and applause.

The cheering didn't stop as he flowed through his spins and his step sequence but he was barely aware, his focus was only on the music and the memory of her weight in his arms. As he landed his triple axel / triple toeloop combination, the audience surged to its feet. When he entered his last flying camel spin, he realised he could barely hear the music over the noise of the crowd.

When he bowed to the four sides of the arena, he sought her with his eyes and his chin raised slightly as he saw the sheen of freezing tears on her cheeks. He didn't remember his skates touching the ice once on his way to the Kiss and Cry.

  
“The scores please.”

Min-so leaned towards him, speaking quietly in his ear as he pulled his training jacket on, nearly dropping the husky plushy he'd grabbed from the ice. He barely registered her words, acknowledging her praise and encouragement with a slight shake of his head. Watching the replay of his jumps was surreal, so he grounded himself by calculating the approximate GOE as he waited to hear his score.

“Seung-gil Lee has scored 107.36, and he is currently in 1st place. This is his season's best.”

As he processed the breakdown, his eyes widened. His PCS score was 45.01... how was that possible? He'd never scored above 40 PCS points in his life.

“Seung-gil! Did you hear me? You beat your personal best by 21 points!”

Relenting as she saw the shock in his eyes, Min-so gently took hold of his jacket and tugged, leading him away from the cameras and out of sight of the crowd. He moved like he was sleepwalking, only remembering to drink from his water bottle when she prompted him.

The crowd began cheering madly, and he glanced at the screens nearby as Christophe Giacometti took the ice. Someone was speaking near him, and then he was being gently eased into a seat, a thicker coat wrapped around his shoulders. He heard an American accent; the new person seemed to be holding enquiries at bay and generally keeping people away from him.

“Leo?”

“Welcome back. Min-so's gone to deal with the press, I said I'd be your bodyguard for a moment.”

“What... why?”

“You looked like you were about to pass out, or fall over.”

The announcer's voice was fainter in here, but he could still hear it. “Christophe Giacometti has scored 96.75, and is currently in 4th place.”

“That just leaves Katsuki and Plisetsky.”

“How... Chris...”

“He touched the ice coming out of his triple axel, and his last quad was over rotated. Not much, but enough to knock his GEO into the red.”

Slowly, Seung-gil's vision expanded to take in the rest of the room as he recovered from the double impact of the energy of his skate, and the shock of his score. Sipping water, he focused on the screen where Katsuki was gliding to a stop in the middle of the ice. His hands were bare as usual, and his engagement ring glinted when he pressed it to his lips, making the crowd scream.

“The fans are never getting tired of that” Leo said, giving a lazy wave to some familiar faces passing through the lounge. Seung-gil nodded, his eyes fixed on the numbers ticking at the top of the screen as Katsuki moved through his program.

“Lana's going to be at rinkside until the end, but she said she'd meet you for dinner.”

“You spoke to her?”

“After my skate. And my cry, of course.” Seeing the blank look in his companion's eyes, he sighed. “I sucked out there today. My team looked like they wanted to crucify me.”

“Yuuri Katsuki has scored 101.85, and is currently in 2nd place.”

Leo hitched his knee over the arm of his chair and sighed again. “Plisetsky last, and then we'll see how much the Russian team want to kill you.”

The blonde skidded to a halt in the centre of the ice, his starting position all harsh angles and angry grace. His outfit was midnight black, making the vibrancy of his hair seem like a scream.

“He did the choreography himself for this one. Apparently Yakov threatened to quit unless he tamed it down a bit. He had three quads in there originally.”

“He's insane.”

“Possibly.”

“Why do you know things about his plans?”

“Lana. Don't worry, she doesn't tell me everything. Just stuff that's public knowledge.”

Making a non committal noise, Seung-gil leaned forward in his chair as Plisetsky exploded from the ice in a three jump combo. “He calls me robot” he said, awe in his voice. “He is machine.”

Leo nodded, watching closely. “His stamina's down. He's tired already.”

Saying nothing, Seung-gil winced as he saw the slight wobble on the last spin. _Malnutrition_ _will take its toll for a while, even once he's eating properly again._

“If he's that tired after the short, he's going to suffer in the free skate.”

“Mmm. What? Too much English.”

“Hey, give me your phone a minute.”

Seung-gil turned and stared at Leo like he'd grown a second head. The American skater made a _hurry up_ gesture, and in confusion he handed over his phone.

“Open up the app store for me, it's all in Korean.”

“Hangul” he corrected, doing as he was asked. Leo poked at it for a few moments, then handed it back.

“Give that app a try sometime. I learned Chinese from it, it's pretty good.” Seeing the slightly annoyed look on Seung-gil's face at the violation of his phone, Leo tapped the nose of the plush husky he was still holding. “Think how surprised she'll be if you can speak English to her.

The voice of the announcer interrupted his reply, and they both turned back to the screen. Seung-gil realised he was holding his breath.

“Yuri Plisetsky has scored 106.57, and he is currently in 2nd place.”

Leo whistled quietly, eyeing the dumbfounded Korean sat next to him.

“That boy is going to murder you.”

Seung-gil nodded agreement, clutching his husky plush like a safety blanket as Leo hastily dragged him out of the lounge and back towards his coach, away from the incoming congratulations from strangers. He resolved to learn better English, if only so he could thank the other skater properly for his protection.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The app is [Memrise](https://www.memrise.com) \- I'm learning Japanese and Russian from it at the moment <3 the free version is excellent!


	14. Chapter 14

The mens Free Skate was scheduled for the following day, and Min-so was adamant that none of her skaters had “guests” so Seung-gil was forced to venture out to the food village to find Lana. To his immense relief, she was waiting for him at the Korean BBQ restaurant, and she was blessedly alone.

Taking a seat next to her, he rested his knee against hers with a soft whimper. He wondered if it was some type of cosmic joke – that he'd spent most of his life alone, yet when he actually _craved_ physical contact, she was so close to him but just out of reach.

Gauging his stress levels from the look on his face, Lana decided to avoid talking to him. She ordered as quietly as she could, picking for both of them, then poured tea for him while he sat and stared at the table. As she felt his knee touch hers, she smiled and put her coat over their laps, slipping her hand beneath it to grasp his fingers. He sighed in relief, letting his hair hang over his eyes as he slumped in his chair.

They ate in silence, separating their hands only for as long as they were using their chopsticks, then twined their fingers together again. They sat for an hour after finishing their food, drinking tea and pretending to be interested in their facebook feeds but really all their concentration was on the soft grasp of their hands beneath the thick winter coat.

When Seung-gil's alarm told him he had to go and start his evening yoga practice he whined under his breath, gripping her hand harder before reluctantly letting go. They hadn't spoken a word the entire time, but it seemed as if every fear and doubt in his mind about the next day had been put to rest. She let her arm press against his for a moment, then they made their way back to the central plaza, where they parted without a backwards glance for their separate accommodations.

Moving through his yoga poses later that evening, Seung-gil felt as if he'd just woken from a long nap, refreshed and ready. When he checked his phone afterwards, he found a peacefully sleeping husky sticker waiting from her, followed by a tiny heart emoji. He didn't even try to stop his smile.

 

  
Thanks to coming first in the short program, Seung-gil had to skate last in the Free Skate. He filled the time by hiding from the other skaters, stretching out in a quiet corner before the official group two warm up. As he had done the previous day, when he set foot on the ice he looked for her, and she peeked over the top of her camera to give him an encouraging smile.

The ice cleared for Altin to begin, and Seung-gil slunk away to the side of the arena, close to where Plisetsky was waiting and watching the rink. The usual irate look on his face was softened slightly as he watched the older skater, and his fingers dug into his arms at each jump. When Altin hit the ice hard out of his triple axel, the hiss from the blonde was audible over the general distress of the crowd. The next jump ended with a heavier fall, and as he entered his last sit spin it was obvious his confidence had gone. Forcing his expression into stillness as he took his bows, Seung-gil clearly saw the moment he met Plisetsky's eyes and his lips twitched slightly, frustration and grief written in the micro expression. The blonde turned and nearly walked _through_ a number of officials as he slammed towards the warm up area to get himself ready for his skate. It looked as if he was fighting back tears.

As Katsuki began his skate, Seung-gil headed for the warm up area himself and was unexpectedly ambushed by Leo, who had been lurking near the curtain.

“Hey, Korea!”

Seung-gil looked up already in a frown, but his expression cleared slightly as he recognised the other skater. He raised an eyebrow as Leo stuck out his hand for a shake, then reluctantly responded. As he felt a piece of paper pass between their fingers he glanced down, and Leo leaned closer.

“A mutual friend says good luck” he said, and then released the astonished Korean, heading back out to rinkside. Looking down at his hand, he uncurled the paper and then bit his lip to avoid smiling. Lana had realised he wouldn't be able to look at his phone, so she'd drawn a little picture of a husky and written in Hangul next to it ' _Dance with feeling'._

Stepping onto the ice, the audience might as well have disappeared. All he could see was her, leaning on the boards. As she saw him looking she lowered her camera completely, and he realised she was wearing his Team Korea jacket.

When he threw himself into his first quad, he felt like he was flying.

 

  
“You have to go to the banquet. It's non negotiable, Seung-gil! If you wanted to avoid the publicity, you shouldn't have won an Olympic medal!” Min-so threw the brand new suit on his bed and glared at him ferociously.

Glaring back at his coach, he almost shook the silver disk at her. “I've already been photographed and paraded, why do I have to do it again tonight??”

“Because that's how it is!” she snapped back, and he groaned. It had been her favourite answer for most of his life, brought out when he was being unreasonably intractable over something stupid.

Lana knocked on the door to his room and then walked in, beaming. She'd discovered his roommate hiding in the corridor and obtained a briefing on the row, but had been waiting for the right moment. Seeing that Seung-gil was close to giving up, she decided it was safe to launch her plan to sweeten the pot. Min-so gave her a glare almost as formidable as her student, but then noticed what was draped over Lana's arm and re-evaluated, her expression shifting to a knowing smile.

“Is it OK for me to get changed here? It's too cold to walk from the press dorms in this dress” she said, indicating the golden fabric over her arm. Seung-gil turned to stare at her, then down to the dress, and the pale fury on his face was replaced instantly with a high flush.

“You're wearing that one?” he managed, recognising the fabric immediately, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Is that OK? I brought others, but I thought you might prefer this one.”

He made a noise rather like an animal caught in a trap, and then slammed into the bathroom to shower without another word. Min-so gave Lana a smile and patted her on the shoulder as she left the room, ordering Wan Jun-cho in to get ready himself. The younger skater gave Lana a speculative look as she settled down in the kitchen to wait for her turn in the bathroom.

“I've been invited over to the Israeli dorms for a party tonight, after the banquet. I probably won't make it back until really early in the morning. Or I might stay out all night...”

“Why would you do that?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“Let me borrow you for some 'candid' Instagram shots before we leave Gangneung and I'll 'forget' to take my key with me” he grinned, and she nodded, grinning back.

“Deal. Enjoy your party.”

“You enjoy yours” he winked conspiratorially as Seung-gil appeared from the bathroom, grumbling his way into his suit.

 

 

The party for the medallists included photo opportunities with their competitors, team members and various officials. There was a huge buffet and an open bar, as well as a large central dance floor. When they arrived, Seung-gil tucked himself in beside Lana in his best attempt to hide, but was quickly dragged away for photographs. Gravitating to the Russian team, she watched with amusement as the three most antisocial skaters in the International competition were forced into a line and encouraged to smile.

“Bets on which one will explode first?”

Lana leaned back against Victor with a chuckle. “I think Katsuki-kun looks close to crying already. It seems pretty even between Yurio and Seung-gil as to who explodes first.”

Victor made a small, sad noise, indicating his desire to go and help his fiancée deal with the press. Waving him away, Lana turned to the next available person, trying to distract herself from watching the pain on Seung-gil's face as people asked him questions. She just hoped they were mostly speaking Korean.

“How long are you two staying tonight?” Leo asked, giving her a hug.

She eyed Seung-gil, who's expression was shifting from agonised to mutinous. “Probably not much longer. I'm trying to work out how to rescue him without getting my picture over every social media platform.”

“Too late” Leo said, “that dress is stunning on you, plus the internet worked you two out months ago.”

Lana made an annoyed noise, tossing her hair. “No need to give them ironclad proof. He doesn't need that kind of pressure.”

“Looks like they're nearly done, the band's warming up. I'd better go find my date before the dancing starts, or he'll get snagged by some pretty Korean boy and I'll be doomed.”

“Like he'd even notice anyone but you” Lana chided, watching as Guang Hong eyed the band and then marched in their direction with a determined look on his face.

 

 

Seung-gil lasted another five minutes before he snapped, declining a question with a curt “no” and striding off in the direction of the bar. Yurio and Katsuki watched him go with matching expressions of astonishment, then both realised they could use the opportunity to escape. They split off in opposite directions, Victor snagging Katsuki as he went towards the champagne and towing him back to safety. Yurio was fielded by Otabek, who marched him straight out to the patio for some fresh air. Lana made her way to the bar to check on Seung-gil.

As she approached, she saw him order a drink from the barman and her heart sank. Silently telling herself off, she leaned against the bar next to him and watched as the barman passed him a small glass of clear liquid. He swallowed it in one go and then pushed his hair out of his eyes, realising that she was next to him.

“I escaped” he said, then blinked as she tugged her eyes away from the glass and smiled. It was the first time he'd seen an expression like that on her face, and it took him a moment to recognise it as a false, forced smile.

“Water” he said, raising the glass and watching her curiously. “I thought I was going to die of dehydration after all that talking.”

The relief that flooded across her face as he requested another two waters made his heart hurt a little. He'd never asked her why she didn't drink alcohol, but he'd been aware of it; she always ordered tea or water, or virgin cocktails. His diet and training regime was extremely strict, and he rarely felt the urge to cheat with the empty calories from alcohol, so he'd simply followed her lead. He knew he followed her lead on a great many things, and strongly suspected it was past time for him to start being an equal part of their relationship.

Taking a deep breath, he looked over at the rapidly filling dance floor, then put his drink down and took her glass out of her fingers gently.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as he shook his head.

“Not yet. Will you dance with me?”

“Are you serious?” her expression was wide open with surprise, and he bit back a smile.

 

 

As he took her hand and led her to the dance floor, Seung-gil deliberately shut down his awareness of the room around him. He was a silver medal winning Olympic figure skater, he didn't need to be photographed falling over his feet because he was self conscious about being watched. Lana moved with her natural grace, the outfit she was wearing blinding everyone to how nervous she was, but he could feel it from the tension in her hand. He picked a spot near Leo and pulled her into a slow waltz.

Her trembling stopped almost as soon as her arms were around his neck and she looked at him in wonder. “This is happening” she murmured, and he tightened his grip on her waist, lips twitching in a smile.

“You don't mind?”

“Of course not! I'm more worried about you... your fans...”

Seung-gil made a dismissive noise. “Out of the two of us, you should be more concerned. I'm going to be terrible for your reputation.”

“Rubbish.”

Drawing her closer to him, he decided to tackle the brief moment of strangeness earlier, before it escalated in his mind into something horrendous. “You don't like alcohol” he hazarded, and she flushed and dropped her eyes. “It's OK. Neither do I.”

With difficulty, she raised her eyes to his. “I don't like... being around men who drink” she managed, briefly touching her hand to her chest. He understood instantly and forced his expression to remain neutral, but inside something sat up and roared in rage as he remembered the scars that wound their way over her torso.

“When we get back to Seoul... you can tell me if you want to. Only if you want to.”

Nodding, she rested her cheek against his for a moment. “We should talk about a lot of things. Things we've been putting off until now.”

“I... think that's a good thing?” he asked, a worm of paranoia curling in his chest. Her laugh made him relax, and she met his eyes again.

“Definitely a good thing. I'm... I'm not going anywhere, Seung-gil. I promise.”

There was no mistaking the smile that curled his lips, and it took everything she had not to kiss him right there on the crowded dance floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for some more smut... next chapter is going to be entirely sexy!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times!!! Finally!!!!!!

Once they were back in the Athletes accommodation, Lana told Seung-gil about her deal with his roommate. Amused, he locked the door and slid the bolt across, just in case Wan Jun-cho forgot about the agreement. It had been nearly a month since they had been able to spend the night together, he didn't intend to let anything disturb them.

They had danced for an hour before Lana decided her feet had suffered enough and they had made their escape. Sitting on Seung-gil's bed, she kicked off her kitten heeled shoes with a soft whimper, then rooted around in her bag for a change of clothes.

“I know I should probably be all seductive and sexy right now, but if I'm honest I just really want a baggy t shirt and a cuddle. My feet are killing me” she laughed, pulling a face. Seung-gil, who had swapped his suit for comfy training gear almost as soon as he was in the door, made a sympathetic noise.

“Get changed” he said, heading towards the kitchen, “and find something to watch.”

“What do you fancy?”

“Zombies.”

“I should have guessed. Fast zombies or slow?”

“Mmm. Slow.” He liked watching slow zombies, they always ate the stupid people first. It appealed to his sense of humour.

Lana found an old Romero movie on Google Play and queued it up. They both enjoyed laughing at horror movies, finding the plots predictable and the monsters hilarious. It was also easy to ignore them for extended periods and not get confused, something they'd found very useful.

Dimming the lights as he came into the bedroom, Seung-gil laid out cups of tea before fetching some supplies from the bathroom. Eyeing the tub of lotion, she gave him a suspicious look. “What are you up to?”

“Old skater trick” he said, sitting next to her and running his hand down her legs, pulling her feet into his lap. “Trust me?”

“Completely” she said, smiling as he wriggled so he could hold her feet and see the screen at the same time. He passed her tea over and then dug out a generous helping of the cool, lavender scented cream and coated the palms of his hands. Easing his thumbs into her instep, he bit back a smile as she tucked herself into the pillows with a happy murmur.

“Heels are the devil” she said as he massaged her feet, the soothing lotion quickly taking away the burn from the hated shoes. “I've forgotten how to wear them, and once you do that you're doomed.”

“I don't like wearing them either” Seung-gil said, and she laughed out loud, poking him in the stomach with a toe.

“Lee Seung-gil, I believe that was a joke. An actual joke.”

“Impossible” he said, his tone light. She laughed again and sipped her tea, making occasional whimpers of bliss as he worked.

 

Satisfied that her pain had reduced, Seung-gil shifted his hands to her calves, rubbing the muscles through her leggings with a slower, more intimate motion. She tolerated it for a few moments before setting her tea aside and wriggling out of the constricting fabric. Giving him an innocent look, she slipped her feet back into his lap, murmuring “don't stop” as she rested her toes on his thigh.

Letting his hands wander up the long planes of her legs, he bent forward, parting her knees and feeling her ankles slip around his waist. Shifting his weight to kneel between her knees, he made a happy noise as she leaned up to meet him, drawing him into a kiss. When he ran his hands along the outside of her thighs, she made a soft noise of encouragement, parting her legs and pulling him tighter against her. In moments, they were grinding against each other, her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed her back into the pillows.

Dragging her nails gently up his spine under his t-shirt, she pulled the thin fabric over his head. He keened at the scratches, burying his face into her throat until he could focus again, then removed her t-shirt. “Fair's fair” she said, giving his training pants a tug and reducing him to just his underwear with a grin.

Moving his lips down to her collarbone, Seung-gil eased his fingers into the band of her underwear and paused, murmuring the request in her ear. She lifted her hips in answer, then ran her hands over the muscles of his buttocks, easing his boxers down and off.

“Is this OK?” she asked, and he nodded quickly.

“For me, yes. For you?”

“Yes” she smiled, “very much yes. I want you.” His reply was muffled against her throat, but his body spoke for him as he pressed against her.

They rocked against each other for long moments, the feel of her heat against his arousal making him shiver and pant until he pulled back, trailing soft kisses down to the ridge of her nipples. She moaned as he knelt between her thighs and ran his tongue over first one darkened peak, then the other. Fingers twitching in his hair, she arched her back as he used his teeth to roughen the tip, then flattened his tongue and stroked the sensitive nub in a slow circle. His hands rested on her waist, keeping their bodies pressed together as he kissed his way down to her hip.

Realising his intentions as he moved below her waist she tugged his hair, pulling his gaze up to hers. “You don't have to” she said, and he nodded. “Is it OK?” he asked, as soon as she nodded he ducked his head, running the tip of his tongue into the cleft between her legs.

She fell back onto the pillows with a soft moan, her entire body focusing on the movement of his tongue and fingers as he opened her beneath him. Remembering how to get the best reactions from before, he shifted quickly into a slow, circling motion with the tip of his tongue, dipping his fingers into her while the other held her hips still. The movement inside her quickly fell into rhythm with his tongue, and it wasn't long before her moans were shifting into the desperate cries he wanted to hear.

He felt the tension building as she arched up, the throbbing inside and the sweet taste of her making his arousal ache as she came for him, crying out his name. Groaning, he pulled away and lay beside her, stroking himself as he watched her subside. Skin flushed and eyes dark with lust, she collected herself enough to pull him into a kiss, and pushed him onto his back on the bed.

Sitting on his hips, she pulled his hand away from his heated flesh and replaced it with her own, grabbing one of the many condoms stashed around the Athletes dorms. Seung-gil sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist and capturing her lips as she sheathed him, then letting her push him back down.

“OK like this?” she asked, taking her weight on her hands either side of his ribs. He nodded, gripping her hips and forcing himself to breathe.

“I've imagined this” he murmured, and she ducked her head down to kiss him, shifting her weight and easing her hand between them. As she eased him inside her, they both cried out and tensed for a long moment, trying to adjust to the new sensations.

“Fuck...” all he could do was curse as she pushed back against his hips slowly, taking him deeper until he was fully hilted. Eyes closed, the pleasure in her expression made him curse again and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her down into a deep kiss. As their tongues danced, she began to rock against him, her weight on his chest and his hands in her hair.

Heat flooded him as she worked his body, his moans getting lost inside their kiss. Needing more, he bent his knees and planted his feet, thrusting up into her. The change of angle made her cry out and she sat up, her hands moving behind her back to brace against his thighs. He gripped her hips and took in the sight of her as she rode him, her beauty threatening to undo him. When his soft moans shifted to full voiced, throaty cries of pleasure she curled back into his chest, his thrusts losing all rhythm and his body shuddering. He pressed his face against her throat, his arms locking around her like a vice as he climaxed, then all the strength flooded out of him and he collapsed back onto the bed, clinging to her helplessly.

After long moments, he came back to himself enough to gently disengage from her, kissing her deeply before going through the motions of cleaning himself up. She watched him silently, pulling the duvet up over her breasts and running her hands through her hair. As he slid under the duvet and curled up into her arms, she gave a long, satisfied sigh.

“Been looking forward to that” she murmured, and he murmured agreement, his voice still shaking. Chuckling softly, she kissed his nose and nodded to the night stand, where his silver medal sat in its case. “Which was better, winning the medal, or what we just did.”

“Us” he replied instantly, pulling her into a much deeper, more serious kiss. When they parted for breath, he made a dismissive gesture at the medal. “I hate looking backwards. That is done and gone. This” he ran his fingers over her jaw, gazing into her eyes, “this is my future. _You_ are my future.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Come and say hi on Tumblr!](http://silvandar.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Cis hetero fans might like this one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106390)   
>  [Kink!Otayuri fans click here!](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1144475)


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